Book 37 - Go Hard, Or Go Home
by GailDunn2
Summary: WARNING: MAY CONTAIN ADULT CONTENT, AND SITUATIONS. The adventures in the Caribbean continue. What is Vincent's endgame, and who will gain the upper hand, when it comes to looking for the Books? Some rules will be adhered to, and others ignored, in the race for their acquisition. What will the consequences be, once the battle lines are drawn?
1. Seven Island Suite Cont'd from Book 36

_Seven Island Suite Continued From Book 36_

3 - JAMAICA - BLACK CLOUDS

While the tropical storm had raged outside, the Winchesters and the Angels had been safely ensconced in their hotel in Barbados. It had been a little frightening to Gail to see how swiftly the weather had turned dark and malignant, though, almost as if it had been chasing them back there. Practically the moment they'd entered the lobby from their boat trip, the skies turned pitch black, and the hard rain and high winds cut a swath through the resort.

The employees had spent several hours preparing for the storm, so the property had been fairly unaffected. That was just a fact of life when you lived and worked in the Caribbean. Sometimes the weather turned on a dime, and you had to be prepared for it.

The following morning, the four of them were sitting at a table poolside, talking in hushed tones. Though everyone had been prepared as they could be, there was still debris laying around, and the resort's staff were all pitching in to clean it up before too many more of the guests showed up for breakfast.

There was bad news on that score, too. The resort had suffered a brief power outage as a result of a burnt-out transformer in town, so breakfast was going to be cold sandwiches and warm drinks, only.

"That's OK; I've pretty much gotten used to warm milk, anyway," Sam said to the others. "I wonder how it is that they're able to dispense the fruit drinks and the sodas cold, but the milk always somehow comes out warm."

"What are you doing drinking milk, anyway?" Dean asked his brother, cramming a handful of bacon strips into his mouth. "You know who drinks milk, Sammy? Babies."

"Are you eating cold bacon?" Sam said, making a face. "Why are you eating cold bacon?"

Dean stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Ummm...because it's bacon," he replied.

Sam rolled his eyes. "And they put rum in every drink here," he went on, looking at Cas and Gail.

"Are you kidding? That's one of the good things," Dean said around a mouthful of bacon. "The really bad part is, everything's got fruit in it."

"Will you two stop acting like 'Ugly American' tourists for just half a second?" Gail said irritably. "Is it just me, or is anyone else starting to wonder what the hell we're even DOING here?"

"Having the time of our lives, that's what we're doing here," Dean remarked. "Come on, Gail, you've gotta admit that you've been having fun."

But that was just it: she HAD been having fun. Lots and lots of fun. But in her experience, fun was never free. There always seemed to be a hefty price tag that followed. Years ago, they had hosted a magical Christmas, only to be split up right afterwards to fight Lucifer's death squads for a year. Then they'd had another great one, following which she and Cas had had to get a divorce. Maybe they should all just forget about Christmas, then. But how about their last house party, the one where she'd been forced to kill her brother? Oh, or the one before that, which had set off the chain reaction of Cas's bitter revenge plan in Hell? Look how well THAT had gone. Maybe they should all just wear sackcloth and ashes, and attempt to never have any more fun. Ever.

But Cas was at the opposite end of the spectrum right now, as far as emotions went. He'd been having an increasingly foreboding feeling that they were being afforded a unique opportunity now, and that they should take it. It was funny, too. Normally, Castiel would be the one to try to give everyone the wake-up call. To tell them that they shouldn't eat, drink, and be merry. Instead, they should remain sober and vigilant, for when the fighting began. But he didn't want to be "that guy" right now. Over the past couple of days, he had felt the yoke of responsibility loosen around his neck and shoulders, and now he felt able to put it aside for the time being. He would still need to don it again when the time came, but for the time being, he felt good.

Sam had already called Zach, who told him he'd be happy to take them to Jamaica. So after breakfast, they checked out, went to the airfield, and got on the plane. Once again, the flight was slightly bumpy, but uneventful.

Another day, another resort, and the one in Jamaica was just as nice and fun-filled as the last one. Once they'd gotten settled in, they were at poolside, scanning the list of activities.

"Hey, here's one for you, Dean," Sam said good-naturedly. "A pineapple-eating contest. Finally, you can put that gluttony to good use."

"More fruit? Gimme a break," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "For a second there, I thought you were going to say a 'pie-eating contest'. Then, we'd really have something."

"Oh, this isn't just an eating contest," a young activities coordinator said to them. "It's a test of teamwork, and strategy. We hang the pineapple on strings from the ceiling, and you and your partner have to finish eating the pineapple, together."

Dean thought for a moment. "That doesn't sound so hard. What's the catch?"

"Both of your hands are tied behind your backs," the young man said, his lips twitching.

"Why don't you and Sam try that?" Cas piped up. "The two of you are a great team. Gail and I will come and root you on."

"That sounds great!" Gail enthused. "Hey, if they hang the pineapple from the ceiling, the two of you will be halfway there, already."

So they went over to the building where the staff were setting up for the contest. It was fortunate that this activity was one of the ones that had been planned for this particular morning, because the employees hadn't quite finished cleaning the tree branches and palm fronds from the pool area yet.

Once the contest got underway, though, the brothers were finding it much harder than they'd thought it was going to be. They'd gone in aggressive, but that was a bad strategy. The pineapple was on a string, and so every time one of them would go to take a bite, it would begin to swing back and forth, like a pendulum. And the harder the men would try to chase after it, the more it would swing.

Gail was laughing delightedly. "Take a picture, and send it to Frank," she told Cas, nudging him. "He's going to love this!"

"Stop, Dean," Sam instructed. "Hold on. I've got an idea. One of us should hold the fruit steady with our face, and that way, the other one can eat it down to the string. Right?"

Dean shrugged, but actually, that did sound logical. So he said, "OK, Sammy, you're the guy who likes to eat healthy. Have at it."

Once the pineapple stopped swinging, Dean held it steady, and Sam made quick work of it. "We have the winning team!" the activities coordinator announced, and the brothers were grinning. The young man untied their wrists, and gave them towels to wipe their faces from the fruit juice.

"We have a choice of prizes, over in the gift shop," the coordinator said, handing Sam and Dean a voucher each. "Come by before the end of the day."

"So, what's next?" Dean said, clapping Cas on the shoulder. "Hat-making? Origami? Etiquette lessons?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "Does everything have to be sarcasm with you?"

Dean put his arm around her shoulders. "Believe it or not, I'm not being sarcastic," he told her. "I'm in the mood to try new thing. You can't just sit around drinking all day, you know. What you got there? Pick something, and I'll try it."

"OK, you're kind of scaring me now," Gail quipped. "But, if you really mean it..." She consulted the schedule. "Okie-dokie. How about a Spanish lesson?"

"Sounds good," Dean said, nodding. "Lead on. Arriba, arriba. Andele, andele."

Sam grinned. "Maybe you don't want to go in there sounding like Speedy Gonzalez."

All four of them attended the lesson in rudimentary Spanish, and even though they came out of it having learned only a few words, it had still been fun.

"So THAT'S what 'cerveza' means!" Gail exclaimed, laughing. They had just been taught that it was the Spanish word for beer. "All this time, I thought that people were being kind of rude."

"Rude?" Sam said, puzzled.

"Yeah. You know, when they're at the bar, going 'cerveza, cerveza', I thought they were demanding service!" Gail replied, shaking her head. Sam laughed.

"Who knew learning another language could be this useful?" Dean joked.

"Only anyone who's travelled anywhere internationally," Sam remarked dryly.

"Is there anything else you'd like to do, my love?" Cas asked Gail.

She pulled the schedule out of her pocket. "Well, I was thinking about horseback riding," she said. "I've never ridden a horse before. I just thought it might be something different to do."

"You've never ridden a horse?" Dean asked her dubiously.

"No. Why, have you?" she asked him, trying to take the focus off the subject. Of course she had, when she and Cas had been in Camelot. But they'd never shared that chapter of their previous lives together with any of their family, and Sam and Dean seemed to have no recollection of it, themselves. Even Gail had almost forgotten, until now. And maybe that was just as well, considering what had ended up happening to her there.

"Sure, I have," Dean told her. He lowered his voice. "Cas sent me and Sammy back to the Old West, one time. Didn't we ever tell you that story?"

"No," she said, amazed.

"Oh, man, it's a good one, too," Dean enthused. "Remind me later."

"Have you ever ridden a horse?" Sam asked Cas.

Cas gave him a patient smile. "Of course I have. And a camel, and a donkey, and an elephant..."

"One mammal at a time, there, Big Guy. Let's go," Dean said.

But when they got to the place where the horses were, Gail looked up at the animals apprehensively. "I didn't know they'd be so...big," she said nervously. Either she'd been a lot taller as Guinevere, or the horses had been a lot smaller, back then.

"Here, let me help you," one of the activities coordinators said to her. He bent over beside one of the horses and cupped his hands together.

"He wants you to step on his hands," Cas said to her. He was petting his horse gently, preparing to step up into the saddle. "Then, he will boost you up, so that you can sit in the saddle." He'd initially been a little puzzled by her insistence that she'd never ridden a horse before, but Cas had just put it down to PTSD over having been burned at the stake in Camelot. And that was certainly understandable.

Oh. Okie-dokie. Gail stepped on the man's hands, and he lifted her up. She was trying to get her leg up and over the saddle, like she'd seen the men do, but..."I'm stuck," she said, embarrassed.

"Look at that! She's got T-Rex legs, too!" Dean exclaimed, laughing. "Hey, Sammy, get a picture, quick!"

Cas hopped down from his horse and rushed over to help her. Eventually, he and the activities coordinator were able to maneuver Gail's lower body so that she could sit upright on her horse. "Thank you, sweetie," she said in a subdued tone. How humiliating. And then it got even worse, when Cas returned to his horse and hoisted himself up into the saddle, as if it was nothing.

Sam and Dean were both laughing now. "You okay there, Annie Oakley?" Sam teased her.

"Et tu, Sam?" Gail said, raising an eyebrow.

"OK, so we're going to go for a ride around the eastern perimeter of the resort," the activities coordinator said, mounting his own horse. "Then we'll cut through the jungle path, go along the beach, and then come back here. Follow me."

The men started off, but Gail's horse just stood there. "Ummm...how do you start this thing?" she called out to them.

"Put the key in the ignition," Dean wisecracked.

"Nudge its ribs gently, with the heels of your feet," Cas told her over his shoulder, and she glared at his retreating back. "Maybe I could, if I was six feet tall like you guys are!" she exclaimed. "My feet don't even reach the stirrups!"

The activities coordinator halted his horse, turning it around to face hers. "Pull on the reins," he told her.

Oh. Okay. She did that, but nothing happened.

"Pull harder," he told her.

Gail did, and finally, her horse started to move. The others had waited for her, and Sam and Dean were still smirking. But there was nothing she could do about it, because she would have been, too, if the situation were reversed.

They rode along companionably for a while, and Gail started to relax. Her horse fell in step with the others, and she was feeling better about the whole thing now. But then, Sam's horse got a little too close to Gail's, and her horse suddenly reared up on its hind legs. She yelled, holding onto the reins for dear life.

Cas halted his horse immediately and jumped down, rushing over to Gail's horse. "Easy. Easy," he said to it, stroking its nose. "Have you got a carrot, or an apple?" he asked the activities coordinator. But the young man shook his head. "Then, maybe you should," Cas admonished him. "Perhaps he's just hungry." Cas looked at the horse. "You will be very calm," he said to it. "That's a very precious passenger you're carrying." He smiled up at Gail. "He should be fine, now. Are you all right, my darling?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Cas. He just scared me there, for a minute," she replied.

Dean was laughing again. "Not exactly ready for the rodeo, are you?" he teased her.

Gail glared at him. She should just have Dean's horse attack him. See how he would like that. But, she had to give him his due: he was obviously a natural horse rider. Actually, all three of the guys were. Of course, Dean had always wanted to be a cowboy, Sam was gentle and patient, and Cas had his charming, animal-taming thing going on. He'd probably ridden the first horse that God had ever created, or something. But, horses made Gail nervous. They had big teeth, and they were just so...big. It was harder for someone of her diminutive size. She told the men this now, and Sam grinned. "I think that's why Napoleon became a General," he joked. "So he wouldn't have to ride a horse into battle anymore."

"Next time, we'll get you a pony," Dean chipped in. He was grinning, too. Oh, well. At least she was providing them with some cheap entertainment.

Their ride concluded without further incident, and Cas hurried to lift Gail down from her horse. Then the four of them walked back to the resort.

Gail was hanging onto Cas's arm. Her legs felt a little wobbly. Dean made a crack about not telling anyone it was her honeymoon, in case they misunderstood why she was walking funny, and she burst out laughing.

They went to the bar, and Dean ordered them all a drink. "Here's to the best damn holiday I've ever had," he said to the others, and they all clinked glasses. Even Cas had a drink. They were all laughing and teasing each other, having a great time, when Cas's cell phone rang. He excused himself and stepped away from the bar to take the call.

"Cas, it's Frank," Gail's brother said. "Do you have a second?"

"Sure, Frank," Cas said. "What is it? Is everything all right?"

There was a pause, and then Frank said, "Yeah, Cas. Fine. It's fine."

"All right," Cas said, puzzled. There was another odd silence, and then Cas prompted, "Not that I don't enjoy speaking with you, Frank, but...is there a purpose to your call?"

"Right. A purpose," Frank said, and then there was yet another pause. Then Cas heard him clear his throat and he said, "We had a visitor here, Cas. She said her name was Abigail. Gail's mother. But, she looked like she was Gail's age." There was a silence, and then Frank said, "Well, you know what I mean."

Cas let out a breath. "Obviously, she is still being provided with her so-called 'youth drink'." He felt a flash of anger. If the woman had been anyone else but Gail's biological mother, Cas would probably have been inclined to just torture her for Vincent's whereabouts. The one and only time that Cas and Gail had ever spoken to Abigail, the woman had been completely objectionable, to both of them. But, Vincent was obviously keeping her alive, for some reason.

"What did she want, Frank?" Cas asked his brother-in-law.

"She said she had a message for you guys," Frank replied. "She said you have to go to some bar in Bermuda, to meet a woman called Placida."

"Placida?" Cas repeated. Why did he know that name? Then, it dawned on him. That was the island woman who had introduced Vincent to the voodoo cult. His pulse started to race. Now, they were getting somewhere. "Where did she say we have to go?" Cas asked Frank.

"I'll text you the name and location," his brother-in-law responded. "How're you guys doing down there? Everything OK?"

"Yes, Frank," Cas answered him. "How about you? How is Jody? Did you ever find out what was going on with her?"

There was another, fairly lengthy pause. Cas's phone whistled, and he looked at the screen, telling Frank that he had just received his text.

Instead of answering Cas's question, Frank said, "That Abigail is sure a piece of work, isn't she? Tell Gail she didn't miss anything, there."

Cas was getting a strange feeling from Gail's brother now. There was something that Frank wasn't telling him. And there was a strange quality to his brother-in-law's voice, too. "Are you sure everything is all right, Frank?" Cas asked him now. "Are you under duress? Do you need me to come there?"

"No, Cas, it's fine," Frank replied. "Just, do me a favour. Kick Vincent's ass. If you get a chance to kill him, take it. No messing around. And if you find his stash of that stupid youth drink or whatever, dump it in the ocean. Let the fish regress to caviar. But, Abigail and Vincent? They've gotta go, Cas. They're pieces of crap."

Cas was a little bit surprised to hear Frank say that with regards to Abigail. Now he recognized the main tone of Gail's brother's voice. Frank was angry, but he was trying to control his temper. Cas could relate to that, and he could certainly understand. If Abigail had spoken to Frank as rudely as she'd spoken to Gail, it was no wonder that Frank was mad. But Cas was intuiting something else in Frank's voice now, too. Gail's brother was scared, for some reason. Cas tried to remember if he had ever seen Frank afraid, before.

"I've gotta go, Cas," Frank said. "Say hi to the guys, and give Gail a kiss from me." He cleared his throat again. "Come home safe, and come home soon." Then he hung up.

Cas stood there for a moment, wondering what to make of the phone call. Then, he looked at the text. The name of the bar was The Embarrassed Tiki. He knew that name, too. That was the name of the bar that they had read about in Oliver's journal, the place where Vincent had made the inquiries that had led him to the voodoo cult. So, Placida was willing to meet them there? Interesting. And, Abigail had gone to Frank's house to deliver the message. Were the women in Vincent's life conspiring against him? There would be a certain poetic justice in that, if that were the case. But what the hell did all of this have to do with Blackbeard's chest, and the urn?

Then, he noticed the date and time of the meeting. That was tonight! Cas hurried back to the bar area.

"You're just in time," Gail said, putting her hand on her husband's arm. "I told Dean if he made one more joke about my horseback riding skills, I was going to have you punch him."

"Excuse me," Cas said to the bartender. "Is there any way we can get from here to Bermuda in two hours?"

The man laughed. "Flap your arms, and fly."

Cas let out a frustrated breath. He supposed he and Gail could just pop the brothers over there, but he didn't want to just go in blind, in case it was a trap. No. Better to go the human way, because it was slower. That way, he could exercise caution, but he could still teleport the others out, if there was any sign of trouble. "Sam, can you call Zach immediately? Tell him it's an emergency."

Frank sat down heavily in his chair at the kitchen table. "OK. Message relayed. Now, let's go. Talk," he said to Jody.

"Do you want to not bark at me, please?" she said irritably.

He put his hand on hers. "I'm sorry, Babe, but that Abigail woman pissed me off. Imagine how it feels to have some whacko woman you've never met come to your house, and tell you your wife is sick."

"Yeah, that must really suck, for YOU," Jody said sarcastically.

"You know what I mean," Frank said to her. "Now, can you please tell me what's going on with you? It's been driving me nuts."

"So much so, that you coerce Cas into trying to read my mind?" she said bluntly. Then, she sighed. "I wasn't going to talk to you until there was something to talk ABOUT. I went to see Nelly. I told her about my headaches, and my nausea, and the fact that I forget things, sometimes. She said it's probably just because I'm middle-aged, and I have four kids in my house."

Frank smiled faintly, but he knew that his wife wasn't finished yet, so he waited patiently.

Jody sighed again. "But there's more to it than that, Frank. I know there is. I'm not just middle-aged forgetful. When Gail and I went clothes shopping before she left for the Caribbean, I couldn't even remember Nelly's name. We've been friends for decades now, and I couldn't even remember her name."

"So, what did she say?" Frank asked his wife.

"She said it could be a lot of things," Jody replied. "Then she asked me some questions, and shone one of those little lights into my eyes. Then, she told me she wants me to go for an MRI."

"When's the MRI?" Frank asked her, trying to stay calm.

"Tomorrow," Jody said shortly.

"I'm coming with you," Frank stated. "We'll get the boys to stay here with Angela."

"No. I don't want to say anything about this to them. You know how Rob is. He'll flip out," she said to her husband.

"He probably already knows," Frank said, but even as he said it, he realized that Rob had been having fewer psychic visions lately. Or fewer than he had wanted to share, anyway. As Rob grew older, he was becoming more and more reticent about that kind of thing. He and Eric still lived here in the wing that Cas had built for them, but they were grown men now, coming and going as they pleased. That was inevitable, Frank knew. But it still made him feel sad, in a way.

"I'll call Bobby, and find out if he can send Liz, or somebody," Jody told her husband. "But don't say anything to anybody about anything yet. Okay, Pookie?"

Frank grinned. It had been a while since she had called him that. "You know, it's too bad you weren't one of the guys," he said to her. "I have so many empty-headed MRI jokes, it's not even funny. Which is ironic, if you think about it. Oh, here's one: Who's the MRI technician? Sarah Bellam-y? Get it? Cerebellum?"

Jody rewarded him with a smile. "Actually, that wasn't bad, considering you just made that up on the spot," she told her husband. "By the way, how are the fearsome foursome doing?"

They were entering the Embarrassed Tiki in Bermuda now, a little jelly-legged, but none the worse for wear. Zach had come through for them once again, showing up to take them there at the last minute. Cas had pressed some money into his hand, insisting that he take it. After a moment, Zach did, joking that they could call him in the morning for the next island, if they weren't too hung over from where they were going now. Then he'd slapped Dean on the back and gotten back into the plane.

"You know what? Zach's growing on me," Dean had remarked. Then they'd taken the cab that Zach had radioed ahead for to the bar. And when they walked into the place, they were transported into an alternate world, albeit metaphorically.

4 - BERMUDA - DATE NIGHT

The Embarrassed Tiki was a small, hole-in-the-wall type of place, dimly lit, with tiki sculptures, flowered necklaces and bamboo predominantly featured as decor. It was empty at the moment save for a well-built black man, who was polishing glasses behind the bar.

Cas pulled out a chair next to the wall for Gail to sit in, and then he sat beside her. That was the way he always favoured sitting with her anyway, and this evening, it was as much about protection as it was about romance. Considering who they were about to meet, Cas thought it would be prudent to be in a position to shield Gail. Placida was a Voodoo Priestess, was she not? And they still weren't entirely sure what her intentions were, with regard to this meeting.

"I wonder why this place is called The Embarrassed Tiki," Dean commented idly, looking at the drinks menu.

"It is because our drinks are so strong that you may be embarrassed at what you do, after a few of them," Barnabas said. He was the man they had seen behind the bar, when they had first come in. He was standing by their table now, smiling at the quartet. "My name is Barnabas, and I am the owner of this establishment. What can I get for you?"

"What's in the Flaming Parrot?" Sam asked him.

"That drink is not for the faint of heart, or the weak of liver," Barnabas said with a smile.

"That sounds like a challenge," Dean said. "I'll have one of those."

"What's the 'secret mystery ingredient'?" Sam persisted.

"Why don't you try one, and we'll guess?" Dean said to his brother. "We'll have two," he told Barnabas.

"Excellent," the man said, smiling again. "Then, after a couple of those, we will see how embarrassed you will feel." He looked at Cas and Gail. "And how about the two of you? May I bring you one of our couples' drinks?"

"What's a couples' drink?" Gail asked him curiously.

"It is served in a large pukka shell, with two longer straws," Barnabas replied. "Several types of overproof rum, fruit juices, and dry ice. We light it on fire, and as the flames burn down, atmospheric smoke is released."

"You guys gotta have that," Dean enthused.

"Very well. Bring us one," Cas said absently. He was preoccupied, looking around the dark corners of the bar. Vincent had been in this very place, a number of years ago, looking to become a Voodoo Priest. He had spoken to this man Barnabas. Yet, Barnabas looked like a man in his 30s. Did he belong to the voodoo cult, as well?

Barnabas had frowned momentarily at Cas's tone, but he turned his back quickly on the four of them so that no one would notice his sudden change of expression. It was as Vincent had advised: this Angel thought that he was the Master of any domain that he walked into. Well, he would soon learn otherwise.

"If we're going to have overproof rum, we'd better have something to eat, too," Sam said to his brother, grabbing the food menu.

Dean looked over Sam's shoulder at the menu, and he grinned suddenly. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"What?" Sam asked him.

Dean pointed. "Pu-pu platter? Really? I bet it tastes like crap."

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring Dean. But his brother went on: "I'd order that, but I'm afraid it might draw too many flies. I wonder if they make you eat it in the bathroom."

"Oh my God, Dean. You're the most immature guy I've ever met," Gail said, shaking her head slowly.

"You've actually met your brother, right?" he retorted.

Gail opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had to admit, he kind of had a point, there.

"I think I want to go wash my hands," Gail said suddenly. She had grabbed a drinks menu to read out of sheer curiosity, but it was sticky to the touch. She was reminded of her Uncle Andy's house.

Cas stood, partly out of habit and partly to let her by. His eyes followed her to the back of the bar, where the restrooms were. He sent her a message over their frequency to call him immediately if she encountered any trouble, and she said that she would. But before they had left the resort in Jamaica, they had all grabbed a weapon, and so she had her Angel blade in the pocket of her pants. Cas was taking no chances.

But when Gail got to the two doors for the Mens' and Ladies' washrooms, she stopped short, puzzling over them. There was a Tiki on each of the doors, but which Tiki was which? One of the Tikis was longer, with a bigger nose, so she gambled and went in the other one.

Phew. It was the right one. She washed her hands, starting to laugh. She should really be writing these things down. Jody and Liz would get a kick out of the dilemma she'd had a minute ago, Gail was sure. She wondered idly how Jody was doing. Cas had told her during the flight here that Frank had advised that everyone was fine, but Cas didn't share his sense of foreboding with his wife. She had been having a wonderful time, and there was no sense alarming her for no reason.

Gail dried her hands, glancing at herself in the mirror. With some surprise, she noticed that she looked a little tanned. Though not nearly as tanned as Cas, of course. How in the heck did he DO that? Still, it was nice to see that she had a little colour. As a person who disliked the heat as much as she did, and an Angel who had spent so much time in Heaven up until just recently, Gail never really got much colour on her skin.

When she got back to their table, Gail saw that the drinks had arrived. As Cas stood up to let her back in, a young couple came into the bar and they sat down at the two-seater table next to the Winchesters and the Angels.

Cas scrutinized their faces. He doubted the girl was Placida. Her skin was more brown than black, and even though everyone associated with the voodoo cult seemed inordinately youthful, this girl looked like she was in her early 20s. The man was a white man, with a sandy beard.

"Hey, how're you doing?" the man said, extending his hand to Cas for a shake. "I'm MacKenzie, and this is Reema. We're from Canada. Where are you guys from?"

The four of them introduced themselves, and suddenly, Cas and Gail's drink started to smoke. They had barely touched it, but the flame had burned down now, activating the dry ice.

"Cool," MacKenzie said. "We've gotta get one of those."

"Reema," Cas remarked. "That's an unusual name."

"It means 'white antelope'," the young girl said. She smiled. "Mac and I are on our first date. We were staying at different resorts, and we got bored. So I got out my cell phone, swiped right, and here we are."

"'Swiped right'?" Cas asked, puzzled. He looked uncertainly at the Winchesters. "Is that a slang expression that I am unfamiliar with?"

"They met on Tinder, Cas," Sam explained patiently. "It's a dating app."

"Oh." Cas thought about that for a minute. He looked at the young couple. "Can people really fall in love that way?"

"Whoa, eh? Eh, whoa," Mac said quickly, holding his hands up. "Who said anything about falling in love? We just met, dude!"

"Cas," Dean said under his breath. "Cas!" He kicked his friend's leg under the table.

"Yes, Dean?"

"They're probably just gonna hook up," Dean said in a low voice.

Cas looked at him blankly. 'Hook up'? Oh. Right. That expression, he was familiar with. He didn't understand the concept, though. He took Gail's hand, giving it a tender kiss. Imagine being intimate with each other, and then never seeing each other again. It was unfathomable to him.

The young people were staring at Cas now. What a weird guy. Mac nudged Reema with his foot under the table. "I think we should totally skull our drinks, and get out of here," Mac said to his date, and she nodded.

"'Skull your drinks'?" Dean said, his forehead wrinkling. "OK, I've never heard that one before."

"I made it up," Mac said affably. "I'm trying to make it a 'thing'. My claim to fame, you know?"

Dean rolled his eyes. Yeah, OK. Whatever. People in their 20s were like a different species.

A quick drink later, Mac and Reema got up and left the bar, hand in hand. Cas stared after them. Tinder, eh? Strange.

"Skull their drinks," Dean scoffed. "What a stupid thing to say."

Sam was thinking now, and his mind was free-associating. He was pondering the legend of Blackbeard's skull, now. It wouldn't surprise him one bit to discover that, not only did it exist, but it was probably sitting around in a place like this, being used for decoration.

The door to the bar opened, and a beautiful and statuesque black woman walked in, accompanied by another, younger, even more beautiful black woman.

"Bring us the usual, Barnabas," Placida called out. She headed straight for the quartet's table, pulling up a chair beside Cas. The young woman she was with did likewise, sitting beside Dean.

Placida eyed the four of them. She hadn't expected the men to be so tall, and so handsome. She nodded at Gail approvingly. Vincent's daughter was just a little slip of a thing, but Placida could feel the power emanating from her. This was obviously Castiel, sitting beside Gail. He stared back at Placida, unblinking and on high alert. She put her hand on his arm, giving it a playful squeeze. "I suppose goodness has its good points, if the Angels look like you do."

The woman sitting beside Dean was appreciating her own view. She put her hand on Dean's thigh, and his eyes widened.

Cas moved his arm away from underneath Placida's hand as Barnabas brought the ladies their drinks. Then the proprietor moved to the front door of the bar and locked it, and then he walked to the rear of the bar and vanished from their sight.

"I am Placida, and that is my daughter, Blaise," the woman sitting beside Cas said.

"Your daughter?" Dean blurted out, and Placida smiled.

"Yes," she responded. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"You're Vincent's daughter?" Gail said to Blaise, but the young woman laughed.

"No," she answered sassily. "Phineas is my father." Her hand slid further up Dean's thigh, making him squirm. "But, Vincent is my father, too. Papa Legba. He is the sun, and the moon, and the stars. He is an excellent lover, too," she added, giving Dean's thigh a squeeze.

Yikes. Dean's mind was processing what Blaise was saying. Phineas? Wait a minute. Wasn't he that snake guy? He grabbed Blaise by the wrist, removing her hand from his leg. She smiled again.

"I like this one, Mother. He's handsome," Blaise said, nodding her head towards Dean. "Can I keep him?"

"I'm sorry, my child, but the answer is no," Placida said calmly. "Papa still needs him."

Blaise pouted, but she moved her chair uncomfortably close to Dean's now, and she moved her body close to his, too.

"Look, Squeaky," Dean said angrily. "I don't know what you think's going on here, but I don't go in for any of that weird voodoo crap. We're here to find Vincent, and take him down."

Both of the women laughed. "That will be quite impossible, I assure you," Placida stated.

"He is the One True Being, and he is immortal," Blaise rhapsodized.

"I only wish that our son felt the same way," Placida sighed. "I can see by the confused looks on your faces that you thought it was Blaise whom Vincent and I conceived in the Secret Cove that day. But, no. We had a son. He was the First. He has turned his back on his heritage. Many people accuse me of being heartless, but he surely broke my heart when he left us and our ways to join a Christian church, of all things. He is one of yours now, Castiel. A mealy-mouthed, hymn-singing, Holy-rolling Baptist. Imagine my shame."

"What is the purpose of this meeting?" Cas said angrily. "We were under the impression that you were coming here to tell us where Vincent is."

Both Placida and Blaise laughed again. "Now, why on earth would I do that?" Placida said.

"Because Abigail told us you were going to meet us here!" Gail blurted out, exasperated.

"Ohhhh. Abigail. Well, that explains it," Placida said with amusement. "She has always been jealous of me, and my relationship with Vincent. She obviously used her psychic abilities to intuit my curiosity about you, and she was hoping that you would kill me."

"Give me one reason we shouldn't," Cas growled.

"Vincent wasn't exaggerating about you, I see," Placida said pleasantly. "I really can't give you a good reason. Well, not with your wife sitting right here, anyway. It's a shame Vincent wants her kept alive. Otherwise, my daughter and I could kill her, and then we could show you men a really good time." She laughed once more. "And now, Blaise and I will take our leave, before the weapons come out."

She took a handful of powder out of her pocket, and threw it on the table. A huge wall of flames rose out of nowhere, forcing the quartet to back away. A moment later, when the flames went out, the women were gone.

They all sat there in silence for a moment, and then Gail exclaimed, "What the hell was the point of that?"

Dean was wondering that too, but he was feeling the effects of his Parrot drink now, so he grinned. "Wow, Gail. I thought you were gonna kick her ass, when she got close to Cas like that. Go all 'Krav Macaw' on her."

"What?" Gail said, puzzled.

"You know, the ancient art of fighting," Dean replied, taking another drink. "Kerav Macaw."

"Macaw?" Sam said, bemused.

"Yeah," Dean insisted. "You know. The Martial Art."

"I think that's your Parrot talking," Sam said, gesturing to Dean's drink. "Cause I'm pretty sure that a macaw is a type of parrot."

"Oh, well, if it's puns you're after, toucan play at that game," Gail quipped. She blessed the brothers for distracting her like this, giving her the chance to calm down after what they'd just experienced.

Cas was seething. Gail was quite right: What HAD the point of that been? Just more games? And if so, who was playing them?

Suddenly, they heard a strange sound, one they couldn't quite figure out. Dean looked down at the floor, and he was startled to see a bright white skull, rolling towards their table. He stopped it with his foot, relieved to note that it was merely one of the ceramic decorations they'd noticed around the bar. It must have fallen from a high shelf, or something. He picked it up, and a note fell out of it.

"'Go to Trinidad and Tobago, Dean Winchester'," Dean read aloud. "'There, you will find what you have been looking for. Treasure is everywhere, if you know where to look for it.'"

Dean looked up from the note at the others. "Treasure?!" he exclaimed. "Now we're talking!"

"We're not here to look for treasure, Dean," Cas admonished him.

"Says here we'll find what we've been looking for," Dean pointed out.

Cas was skeptical. "What do you think, my love?" he asked Gail.

She sighed. "Truthfully? I don't even know any more, Cas. I don't even know, any more."

They flew to Trinidad and Tobago the next day in Zach's plane. And they never saw the young pilot again.

5 - TRINIDAD AND TOBAGO - NO WOMAN, NO CRY

All four of them were out of sorts when they got to their next destination, Dean most of all. He was wondering why the hell that note had referred to him specifically. It was Gail's crazy-ass father that they had come here to find, and all the previous notes had been addressed and delivered to Cas.

That note had said that he would find what he was looking for here. But, what WAS he looking for, exactly? Pirate treasure? Yeah, okay, that'd be pretty cool. What guy wouldn't want to find that? But there was something else he wanted just as much, if not more. And he hadn't talked to anyone about it, not even Sam.

Dean sat poolside at this new resort, pounding back the drinks. Their night out at The Embarrassed Tiki had been cut short, and they'd had Zach fly them here that same night. But now, they were stalled again. None of them had any idea what to do next.

But Dean did. He was on holiday, and he was overdue. He'd started with beer, but now, he was on the rum and cola.

"I'll just 'skull' a few of these drinks, and then I'll do...something," Dean murmured, smirking briefly.

Everything was quiet poolside right now. There was music being played at the bar, and usually it was hard to make out, because there was so much noise at these types of places. But Dean could hear the song very clearly now. He'd never heard it before, because it wasn't the kind of music he would normally listen to. Some song about a woman who didn't want to be tied down to one man. Funny, it was usually the other way around. Or maybe it wasn't so funny at all.

The day before the four of them had left for the Caribbean, while Gail had been clothes shopping with Jody, Dean had gotten Cas to take him to Nicole's place to say goodbye to her.

He had apologized, saying he hoped she wasn't too mad at him for leaving town again. He had been wanting to spend more time with her before she went traipsing around the world again, working on the next movie. But, something was always coming up.

"That's OK, Dean," she'd said coolly. "You've gotta do what you've gotta do. Just the same as I've gotta do what I've gotta do."

He had looked at her curiously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she'd said shortly. "It means nothing."

"Are you mad at me?" Dean asked her.

"Why would you say that, Dean? Just because you left the party at Cas and Gail's place without telling me? Because Bobby had to assign one of the Angels to take me home? Now why should that make me mad?" she said sarcastically. "Why did you leave so suddenly, Dean?"

Because I was ditching a dead man's car, to cover up his murder. "I can't really tell you that," he told her.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Nicole said, tight-lipped. "Just like you guys didn't tell me that Gail had brought you back to life, until three days later."

OK, she was right, but: "I thought you forgave me for that," he said.

"And when were you going to tell me that you were in jail for murder, or that you had been convicted for it?" she said angrily.

Dean's heart sank. Oh, geez. "How did you find out about that?"

"Does it matter?" she countered. "Shouldn't I have found out about it from you? Or from Sam, at the very least? See, this is the problem, Dean. You keep saying that you want us to be closer, but yet, you keep those kinds of things from me. I'm not saying I need to know every little detail about your life, but those are BIG details, Dean! If I hadn't been around at the time, would you even have told me that you and Gail were married for six months?"

"OK, now you're just being ridiculous," Dean remarked.

Nicole glared at him. "I know you haven't been in many relationships, Dean, so let me clue you in: never, ever tell a woman that the way she feels is ridiculous. Even if you think it, you should never say it out loud." There was silence for a minute, and then she said in a calmer tone, "OK, maybe that last one WAS a little ridiculous," Nicole admitted. "But you can see my point, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I can," Dean acknowledged. "I'll tell you what: how about we have a real conversation when I get back from the Caribbean?"

"What do you mean?" Nicole asked him.

"I mean...how about we talk about a more permanent arrangement?" Dean blurted out. "I hate all these separations. I want us to be together."

Nicole smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Then can you do me a favour, Dean? Answer this question honestly, and then we can talk about that: What really happened when I came to visit you in the bunker, right before we went to Quinn's place? How come I was apparently there for hours, yet I have no recollection of having been there? How come?"

Crap. Double crap. He really didn't want to tell her about that. As it was, it was a miracle that Dean had been able to get past it. But if he lied to her about it now and she found out about it somehow, like she'd found out about his conviction for murder, Dean was pretty sure that they would be over. So he took a deep breath, bit the bullet, and told her about Ammit's possession of her.

Nicole stood there, open-mouthed. Now, it all made sense. One minute she'd been in her apartment, packing to go location-scouting, and the next, she'd apparently changed her mind, and gone to the bunker. Suddenly, she remembered a dark-haired woman who'd knocked on her door, saying she had a delivery. But then, when Nicole had opened the door, everything had gone black.

This was unbelievable. "So, this - Demon Goddess, you called her? - she was in my body that whole time, when you and I were - " She couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Yeah," Dean said uncomfortably. "But, I didn't know about it. I swear."

"Oh, so you just thought that Demon slut was me," Nicole said sarcastically.

Nope. No way. There was no way Dean was about to open his mouth. No matter how he responded to that, he was screwed.

"OK, you can leave, now," Nicole had said angrily. "Go to the Caribbean. You go your way, and I'll go mine. The next time I feel like having wild Demon sex, I'll let you know."

So Nicole had kicked Dean out of her place, and he'd had to call Cas from the street corner to come and pick him up. Cas had shown up right away, looking at him quizzically.

"I don't want to talk about it," was all that Dean had said to his friend, and mercifully, Cas had left it alone.

But now, as Dean sat morosely, drowning his sorrows, he wondered if he'd just been trying to force the issue. Nicole had never indicated that she'd needed, or even wanted, a commitment from him. One of the things he'd always liked about her was that she liked her freedom and independence. They'd never discussed being exclusive to each other because they'd never really found themselves in that position. But, whose fault was that? Was it hers, because she never seemed to stay in one place for long enough for them to have that conversation? Or, was it his fault, because he had hidden so much from her that he had made it impossible for her to trust him?

"Dean?" It was Cas. "Dean, are you all right?"

Dean sighed, putting his glass down on the table. "Yeah. What's up, Cas?"

"I was walking through the lobby, and the clerk at the front desk told me to tell you that you have a message in your mail slot," Cas told him.

Dean sighed again. He wasn't even surprised. "Let's find out where we're supposed to go next, then," he said, resigned, standing from his chair.

"'Treasure can be yours, if you go to Pebble Beach'," Dean read aloud. "'See Captain Beaumont, and set sail for the Dominican Republic. Happy hunting'."

6 - DOMINICAN REPUBLIC - NIGHT MOVES

Ken Beaumont had gone to the Dominican Republic a decade or so ago with his wife on a holiday, in a last-ditch attempt to save their marriage. She was always whining about him working long hours. She got bored sitting at home all day, with nothing to do. It was damn annoying. The whole reason he worked so hard was so that they could be in a financial position that would allow her to stay at home all day. In Ken's father's day, a man was a failure if his wife had to work outside the home. He'd also been trying to build up a nest egg for their retirement. Or more accurately, his, since Debbie didn't do anything to retire FROM. They'd never had kids, so there would be plenty of money to live on. But she'd finally talked him into spending some of it on a vacation to the Dominican, and it had been a real eye-opener for Beaumont. He couldn't believe that people actually lived that way. Life moved at a much slower pace on the island. A "Dominican minute" meant that whatever you had been waiting for would happen when it happened, and not a moment sooner. The tides went in and out, people came and went, and life went on at its own leisurely pace.

It had been a revelation to Ken. Who the hell needed the stress of the fast-paced rat race? He'd announced to Debbie that he was going to quit his job and live in the Dominican, and she'd announced to him that she wanted a divorce.

A decade later, Ken had gotten his captain's certification, and he now owned a boat called Ex Marks The Spot. The name worked on a couple of different levels. He hired out his boat and his sailing expertise to tourists who were interested in finding buried treasure, left behind by pirates. Not that there was any, of course, but that didn't stop people from believing the legends. And the boat was all that he had left, after Debbie and her divorce lawyer got done raking him over the coals. Still, Ken was content. He loved the sea, and the Dominican lifestyle.

He'd even met a legend. A few days prior, Papa Legba himself had come onto Ken's boat and paid the Captain handsomely not to take any other charters until the four people that Vincent was describing came to see him. When they did, Ken was to take them back to the Dominican on his boat, from Pebble Beach in Trinidad. So Ken had been waiting there as instructed, because Papa had paid him extremely well, and because the Voodoo Priest was nobody to mess around with. His legend preceded him. People all over the Caribbean talked about him in hushed tones. He was everywhere, and he was nowhere. He caused tropical storms to arise out of nothing, sinking ships, and destroying homes. If you had his favour, you and your loved ones would prosper, in every aspect of life. But if you got on his wrong side, his wrath was fearsome to behold.

Ken had always thought the rhetoric was a bit much, but when Papa Legba introduced himself with that dark grin of his, suddenly the Captain wasn't so sure. Why take chances? He had a good enough life, and he wanted to keep it that way. So he was properly deferential to Vincent, assuring him that he would transport the foursome safely to the Dominican, and then, to their final destination.

Vincent had giggled briefly when he'd taken his leave of the Captain. Just one more day of fun for the four of them, and then, it would be down to business. He could just picture Dean Winchester's face falling as he realized that there was no pirate treasure. Well, not for him, anyway. It was Vincent who would be receiving the treasure, in the form of Blackbeard's chest, and the contents therein. As for Dean, well, that was just too bad. But Vincent had left instructions at the resort that Captain Ken was to tell them to go to upon their arrival, for them to attend a night game at a Dominican baseball stadium. And a diamond was a sort of treasure, wasn't it?

Vincent giggled again, then disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

So Captain Beaumont had delivered them safely to the Dominican Republic as promised, giving them his business card and telling them they were to stay at the designated resort, and attend the baseball game that night.

Cas had been livid. Admittedly, he and Gail had been having a lovely honeymoon, but he was not accustomed to being led around by the nose like this. But Dean had grown complacent, Sam was still doing his research, and Gail was a baseball fan. And, really, hadn't Cas known all along that the endgame was just around the corner? But meanwhile, this break had been good for him, too. A chance to rest and recharge his batteries before the battle began. So Cas had agreed to one more day of following their mysterious instructions. Just one more day. But if a genuine goal was not in the offing tomorrow, he'd told the others, he was taking them all home.

Gail agreed, although a part of her would be very reluctant to let go. She too had suffered from bouts of anger and frustration here in the islands, but she'd also had a lot of fun in the Caribbean. Travelling with Sam and Dean was never dull, and she and Cas had never been closer. They'd come to the Caribbean nearly a week ago, on edge and ready for a fight. But now they were happy, tanned, and relaxed. This was truly what a vacation was supposed to be all about. She blessed their mystery benefactor for the calm before the storm.

They piled onto the rickety old school bus that was parked in front of the resort to take them to the ballgame, and the bus driver went up and down the aisle, counting heads. Then he went to the back of the bus, grabbed a box that was sitting on the floor, and proceeded to pass out bottles of rum to everyone on board.

"Oh, great. More rum. Because we haven't had enough of that yet, apparently," Sam said dryly.

"Oh, great! More rum!" Dean enthused. "Because we haven't had enough, yet!" He cracked his bottle open and looked across the aisle at Cas and Gail. "Bottoms up, Mrs. Buzzkill."

Gail looked at him, then at her bottle of rum. Why not? If tonight was going to be her last night of frivolity, why the hell not? She took a swig. Yikes.

"Oh, look. The driver's drinking, too. Fantastic," Sam said sarcastically. The bus took off with a jerk, and Sam opened his bottle and took a healthy swallow. Well, at least if they were gonna die in a fiery crash, it might not be as painful this way.

Cas didn't drink, but he was looking pensively out the window as the bus proceeded through the jungle roads. They came upon a small village of modest houses, with clotheslines hanging outside and children playing in the dirt, in the yards. What would life be like for those children, growing up here? Cas wondered. Presumably, they went to school somewhere in the town. Would they grow up happy with their lot in life, or would they aspire for better? Would they grow to resent the faces of the tourists, most of whom were white, who passed through their village looking at the people who lived there as if they were objects of pity? WERE they?

Darkness began to fall a short while after they'd left, and soon, they saw the baseball stadium. The building was a huge outdoor grandstand, with towers of bright lights illuminating the night.

"Wow," Gail marveled in a quiet voice. "I knew they loved baseball here, but I had no idea the place would be this big. It's like Yankee Stadium, almost."

The bus driver handed out tickets to everyone as they disembarked from the bus, and the four of them found their section and their seats fairly easily. Their view of the field was excellent. Apparently, the game was already in progress, because there was a batter up, and a runner on base. Gail looked at the scoreboard on the outfield fence, but there were no numbers posted on it, although there was a man sitting in a lawn chair right beside it. Maybe it was only the first inning, then. There were spaces for the count, and the number of outs, but perhaps the scoreboard man had decided that it was too hot to keep getting up and down for everything. Incredibly, there was a live chicken in his lap, and upon closer inspection, he appeared to be plucking it leisurely. Maybe that was how he kept track of the balls and strikes, she thought with amusement.

Crack! The batter hit the ball, but the shortstop for the opposing team vacuumed it up and stepped on second base, then fired it to first to complete a crisp double play. Suddenly, a group of men with brass instruments arose a little further up in the stands and started to play triumphantly. Now, Gail had a pretty good idea of who the home team was.

"I wonder if we can get some hot dogs over here," Dean said, looking around. He saw a vendor, and whistled. "Hey, Buddy! Over here!"

The man came over carrying a box, and he leaned it against the arm of the aisle seat. "Drink?" he asked Dean.

"Do you have any cold beer?" Dean said optimistically. "Cerveza?"

The vendor smiled. "No cerveza. Rum." He started passing out mickeys of rum to the four of them, one each, even though they hadn't asked. Then he handed Dean two cans of warm cola. "You share," he instructed them. Then he started to walk away, and Dean called out, "Don't you want any money?"

The vendor turned briefly around, shaking his head. "Playoffs," he said, as if that explained everything. Then, he was gone.

A few minutes later, another man came around, holding big wooden sticks with meat hanging off them. "Hot dogs?" Dean asked the vendor hopefully, but he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. The man shook his head, handing out the meat kebabs. "Try. It's good," he told them. Then he too walked away, leaving them to hold the sticks.

"I wonder what kind of meat that is," Gail speculated, giving hers a cautious sniff.

"I don't know, but have you noticed that there didn't seem to be any dogs in town?" Sam joked.

Cas smelled his. "I believe it's a mixture. Beef, lamb, and - " he sniffed again " - a little bit of goat, and..."

"There you go, Dean. The shepherd has spoken," Gail said good-naturedly.

"Huh?" Dean swallowed, then licked his fingers. His stick had already been consumed. "What?" he asked them. "The guy was right. It's good."

"Well, I'm glad you like it, 'cause here comes mine," Gail said, passing her stick to Sam to pass to Dean. She looked at Cas. He sniffed at his again, picked a piece of meat off, and chewed it slowly. Then he nodded. "Just as I suspected. A little alpaca, as well." Then he passed the stick to Gail to pass to Sam to pass to Dean, who was looking at the meat uncertainly now. Alpaca? Ah, what the hell. It was still good. He dug in.

But now, Gail had meat juices all over her hands. What the heck was going on lately? It felt like she was one of those germophobes who was always having to wash her hands. Stupid Andy and his stupid messy, sticky house. She excused herself, telling Cas she was going to find the ladies' washroom. He gave her the standard spiel about calling him on their frequency if she needed his assistance. She walked down the concrete steps and into the stadium building.

She found the ladies' washroom with no trouble, and as she walked in, a woman who was sitting by the door extended something for her to take. She peered at what the woman was holding, her eyes widening. It was a single square of one-ply toilet paper. Okie-dokie. Gail shook her head, saying she was just there to wash her hands, and the woman smiled at her. She wasn't sure if the employee had understood her or not, so she gestured with her hands, and then proceeded to the sink. Yikes. It was a good thing she didn't have to go to the washroom any more. One tiny square, with all the rum and meat they were plying here? How did humans DO it? She glanced at the door again, and then, she got it. As women were coming in, they were handing the attendant money, and she was giving out additional squares. Ohhh.

She washed her hands, and then looked around for something to dry them with. Uh-oh. Sure enough, here came another attendant, extending a square of paper towel. Gail looked at her sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I don't have any money," she said to the woman. The employee frowned, then yoinked the paper towel back from Gail's outstretched hand and walked away. Oh, well. They would air-dry in this heat, Gail thought, resigned.

The rest of the game followed fairly uneventfully. The sights and smells and excitement about hits and runs scored combined to make for a fun evening. They piled back onto the bus afterwards, carrying their bottles of rum with them, and astonishingly, the driver handed out more bottles before they got underway. Sam joked nervously that it must be to fortify them for the ride back in the dark, along the winding mountain roads.

But they got back to the hotel without mishap, and Cas inquired at the Front Desk, but there was no note there for any of them. "If we do not have any sort of a definitive goal tomorrow, we will go home," Cas told the group. "Agreed?"

"Yeah," Dean said, yawning and patting his stomach. "It's been great, but I think it's time to go home. I miss cold beer, and cheeseburgers."

They said goodnight, and retreated to their separate rooms. This particular resort was set up as one big bungalow, and it just so happened that their rooms were situated in the back, across a courtyard from each other. Once Cas and Gail got to their room, she moved instantly to open the sliding glass door, to get a little night air into the room. But she left the screen door closed, to keep the bugs out.

"It's kind of nice outside, but it feels really hot and stuffy in here," she remarked.

"Would you like me to go down to the hallway and get us some ice?" Cas offered, and she turned around to look at him, smiling. "That might be a good idea," she told her husband.

Cas grabbed the ice bucket and went back down the hallway, leaving the door to their room slightly ajar. Gail stretched languorously, sighing with contentment. This had been a wonderful holiday, and a very romantic honeymoon.

She sat down on the bed. When Cas got back, she was going to have a shower and change into a nightshirt. She was just starting to get excited, anticipating another romantic evening together, when she felt something drop onto her head. She jumped up, letting out a scream as a medium-sized lizard fell to the floor. It sat there stuporously, looking at her. She looked up above the bed wildly, wondering where the hell it had come from. The ceiling? The wall, above the pillows? Yikes!

The sliding screen door opened abruptly, and Sam and Dean came bursting in, guns in hand. Then, at the same moment, Cas popped in. He'd heard Gail scream too as he'd been coming down the hallway, and he'd dropped the ice bucket and winked himself to their room immediately.

Now, she was embarrassed. "What the hell, Gail?!" Dean exclaimed, looking around the room. "Why'd you scream?"

"We thought Vincent was here, or something!" Sam added.

"I'm sorry, you guys," Gail apologized to the men. She pointed to the lizard, which was still sitting on the floor. Even though three grown men had just burst in here, shouting, the stupid thing just sat there, looking at her. Was it mentally challenged, or was it plotting its revenge?

"Geez, Gail," Dean grumbled, sinking down to sit on the end of the bed. He lowered his gun. "Over a little lizard? Didn't you have hundreds of dead frogs in your room, when we were in Egypt?"

"Yeah, and it was gross!" she retorted. "I had to make an emergency call to Frank and Jody to come and shovel them out of there, before I could even get out of my bed! That thing was on my HEAD, Dean!" she said disgustedly. "Besides, shut up, Dean. You have a 'thing' about snakes, so you're being a hypocrite."

"Yeah, well, that's different," he protested. "A little lizard's not gonna hurt you."

"You know that lizards are just snakes with legs, right?" she said pointedly.

Dean looked at her, startled by the notion. Then he looked suspiciously at the lizard. Cas had bent down to pick it up off the floor. Now that he knew Gail was all right, Cas was faintly amused. He could only imagine the fright she had received, though. His poor wife was squeamish when it came to things like that.

Suddenly, the lizard stuck its tongue out at Dean, and Gail laughed. The timing was just too funny, as was the look on Dean's face. Then she laughed even harder when Dean stuck his own tongue back out at the lizard. They went back and forth like that a few more times, and then Gail rolled her eyes. "Obviously, there's a real battle of wits shaping up, here," she quipped.

"Yeah, and it could be a real standoff too, since the lizard and Dean have about the same IQ," Sam said dryly.

Cas was speaking softly to the lizard now, telling it that he was going to release it outside, and to please tell all of its little lizard friends not to come into their room any more.

"Yeah, tell them all to go into the room across the courtyard," Gail piped up, pointing. Dean glared at her. "What? They're just little lizards, Dean. They won't hurt you. Right?" she said sassily. "So, when you turn the lights off tonight and drift off to sleep, and you feel one or ten lizards plop onto your face from the ceiling, just remember that they won't hurt you."

Dean did a double-take, and then he made a sour face. "Next time, Sammy and I will just stay put, and let the bad guys get you," he told her, and he and Sam went back outside. Cas followed, thanking them for their quick response. He released the lizard into the garden area, then closed and locked the sliding door once he was back in the room.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Gail told him. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know, my love," he said gently. He walked over to where she stood, and touched her cheek. "I will always protect you against intruders, be they reptilian, or otherwise."

He was being too cute. "I'm going to take my shower, now," she said, "and when I come out, maybe we'll send you to get some more ice."

Cas smiled slowly. "I think I would be very happy to do that." He kissed her on the mouth, teasing her with his tongue. "Very happy, indeed."

7 - ST. VINCENT - PUPPET MASTER

Dean was hung over and cranky the next morning. When he and Sam had gotten back to their room after the Great Lizard Scare, Dean had made the mistake of throwing on his shirt and telling Sam that he was going to the bar for Last Call. But as it turned out, Last Call in the Dominican was apparently as flexible as their scheduling, and he'd stumbled back to their room in the wee hours, falling onto his bed fully clothed. But Sam had gone to sleep at a reasonable hour, and Dean's younger brother had been up at the crack of dawn, wanting to get in one more swim at the beach before they had to leave.

Cas and Gail came to the table where Dean was sitting, trying to stomach his morning coffee. "There was a note at the Front Desk for me this morning, and I think this is finally what we've been looking for, all along," Cas told their friend. "Where is Sam?"

"He's getting dressed, in our room," Dean said quietly. "He went to the beach first thing this morning, if you can believe that." He sighed. "What's today's note say?"

"It says that the beach with the black sands is on the island of St. Vincent," Cas told him, frowning.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean said, and Gail was nodding. "That's one reason we think it's legit," she said. "Only my dear old dad would have the nerve to hole up in a place so ironically named."

Sam arrived at the table with a cup of coffee in hand. The Angels told him about the note, and he started checking his phone immediately. A moment later, he made a face. "Boy, am I stupid," the younger Winchester moaned.

"Can we get that in writing?" Dean said irascibly.

Sam ignored him. "St. Vincent is a volcanic island!" he exclaimed earnestly. "They have an active volcano there, called La Soufriere."

"Sulphur Outlet," Cas translated. "What has that got to do with it, Sam?"

"It says here that the volcano hasn't erupted since 1979, but when it did, and the ashes cooled, the eruption turned the sand at about 95 percent of the beaches on the island black," Sam replied. "I should have thought of that."

"Geez, I know you're smart, but you're not a walking encyclopedia," Gail remarked. "Give yourself a break, Sam. Besides, we had a great time this week. Some of us greater than others, apparently," she teased Dean, nudging him. He moaned in response.

"Cheer up, Dean," Sam said. "One of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies was partially filmed where we're going."

"Arrrr you ready to go, then?" Gail joked, trying to get a smile out of the elder Winchester. But all he did was moan again.

"I have already called Captain Beaumont, and he told me that he will take us to St. Vincent," Cas said to the brothers. "If you will pack up your things, Gail has agreed to take our belongings to the boat, while the three of us go to the bunker to get the chest. I will then pop us over to where the boat is moored, and then we will stow the chest below decks until we get there." He looked at Dean. "Will you be all right?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean replied. "It's fine. I'll be fine. Lock and load. Just give me a couple of minutes to pack, and throw up, and I'll be right with you."

"You should take better care of yourself, dude," Sam admonished his brother, rising from his chair.

"What do you want from me? I've been drinking fruit juice all week!" Dean groused. He got to his feet, clutched at his head, and took another sip of coffee. Then the brothers left to go to their room, still arguing as they walked away.

Vincent was excited. Today was the day that he was finally going to receive what he needed. And the delicious irony was that it was Castiel who was bringing it to him.

It had been a simple matter, really. Vincent had spoon-fed the instructions for the alleged location spell to Abigail through Placida, who had sent out strong messages for Gail's mother to receive. Placida had told Abigail, by telepathic means, that if the Winchesters and the Angels got the chest and put the bones of Vincent's brothers in an urn, together with his daughter's blood, and dropped the chest in the ocean at the black sands beach, the chest would lead them to Vincent. And she'd been telling the truth, in a manner of speaking. Then he'd told Placida to tell Abigail to tell Andy about it, and then he had sat back and watched the puppets dance.

There had been no need for them to see either Andy or Oliver, or to get their bones, and there had been no need for Gail to bleed. Absolutely none. There had also been no need for the quartet to visit all those other islands. Vincent had created all of that out of whole cloth, as a smokescreen for what he was really interested in: the chest, or more specifically, the item that was nestled in the false bottom of the chest. But when he was concocting the hoops for them to jump through, Vincent had thought that it couldn't hurt to have the bones and the blood for any future spells he might want to cast. Many voodoo rituals required such things as their ingredients, and one never knew when they could come in handy. But the rest had been pure fabrication. It amused Vincent to have them dance to his tune. Particularly Castiel, who at last report was just as arrogant as ever. And Vincent had magnanimously decided that he kind of owed his daughter a bit of fun, after that whole compound thing. Never let it be said that he didn't have a heart, Vincent thought with dark amusement. Besides, once her father got his hands on the Book of the Dead, Gail's life was going to be a living hell, if she insisted on continuing to play for Team Pious. So she might as well have a little fun now, while she still could.

Any minute now, Ammit and Raguel would be here for the meeting, and Vincent was going to break the news to them that their so-called alliance was finished. He'd had high hopes for them, but both had been a huge disappointment. The Archangel Raguel had the pedigree, and he actually had succeeded in precipitating Castiel's death, for a short time. But ever since then, Raguel had been all talk and no action. Oh, except for that incident in Heaven, that was. Once Raguel had found out that Castiel no longer held the High Office, the Archangel had taken the liberty of visiting Heaven's weapons room, looking to search the annex for any other powerful Biblical weapons he could bring to the bargaining table. Imagine his surprise when a loud, braying alarm had gone off as soon as he'd set foot in the place. He'd had no choice but to pop back out, before suffering the abject humiliation of being captured by a God who bore the ridiculous name of Bobby Singer.

Ammit had actually impressed Vincent when she had managed to infiltrate the much-venerated Winchester bunker. She had very cleverly succeeded in doing something that none of the others had been able to do, not even Vincent himself. But she had been careless, allowing herself to be discovered before she could accomplish anything of value.

The bottom line was that Vincent didn't need his so-called allies anymore; or, he wouldn't, once he received that chest. Nestled in the false bottom was Blackbeard's skull, the prize at the bottom of the Crackerjack box. Vincent was going to drink from it, and when he did, he would receive the vision he needed: the whereabouts of the Book of the Dead. And if the other two didn't like the fact that he was cutting them loose, Vincent could always sic Castiel on them. He may not like his son-in-law very much, but Vincent had to admit that the guy had his uses.

He sat serenely, waiting for his guests to arrive.

Ammit really didn't want to call Crowley. She really, truly didn't. But she was going to have no choice in the matter. Ever since she had been contacted by Vincent and he had given her his location for the meeting, the Demon curse that Crowley had put on the back of her neck had been burning, hotter and hotter, until the pain was all but unbearable.

She was on the island of St. Vincent too, several miles from Vincent's cottage. Crowley showed up immediately in response to her call.

"Has he got the Book of the Dead?" Crowley asked the Demon Goddess eagerly.

"What? No!" she exclaimed. "If he did, he wouldn't be calling a meeting, would he?"

Crowley nodded, thoughtful. That was likely true. From what he knew about the man, Vincent would probably have eliminated his rivals by now if he already had his hands on that particular tome.

Prior to the assassination attempt in Hell, Crowley had been rather complacent about the Books. They interested him, of course, but he had his own little fiefdom in Hell, and Crowley had been satisfied with that. But there were too many parties looking to upset the applecart right now. Why couldn't things just remain the way they were? Everyone had their own little playground to play in, and everything hummed along tickety-boo, for the most part. Lucifer had gotten free, and he had messed around with the status quo for a while. But then the ship had been righted, and things had gotten back to normal. Now, though, there were too many pieces on the chessboard vying for prime positions, and too many ancient, potentially game-changing items floating around. Vincent, Raguel and Ammit all wanted to get their grubby hands on those Books for their own selfish reasons. Ammit wanted to become the new Death, and if she succeeded, Crowley was toast. She held a personal grudge against him that went back quite a ways. Raguel wanted to rule Heaven, and vanquish Hell in the process. Didn't the Archangel understand that there was a need for Crowley and his kind? Even Death, the sour-faced, dried-up, humourless ancient being, recognized that there had to be a balance. God Himself had created Dark, to counterbalance the Light. And even Castiel, arguably the most self-righteous Angel of them all, hadn't pulled the trigger on the Holy War. Even when Castiel had stormed into Hell and chained Crowley to that chair, he had been on a personal vendetta, not looking to dismantle the entire Kingdom.

Not that Crowley had forgiven or forgotten about that little incident, of course, but he would get back at his brother for it in his own way, and in his own time. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and the Books concerned Crowley more at the moment. There was also his mother to think about. Rowena was out there somewhere with a set of codices in her satchel that could also be game-changers. But because they were supposed to be the Word of God, Crowley knew very little about them. He still had the Codex for the codices, but it was useless on its own. And the Angels had the writings from the Tablets at their disposal, which might hold the answers to a few riddles. Rumour had it that Kevin Tran was on the case, and he was working very hard on deciphering the ancient language. Crowley had eyes and ears pretty much everywhere. It was in his best interests to stay apprised of the various goings-on.

And that was why he was here right now. Out of all the parties Crowley was keeping tabs on, Vincent was by far the most enigmatic. None of Crowley's contacts seemed to know what the man's endgame was. Crowley wanted very much to know what that might be, and he also suffered from a considerable amount of curiosity about the individual who had reportedly sired him and Gail, aka Priscilla.

"Open your mouth," Crowley ordered Ammit.

She looked at him incredulously. "You've got your nerve," she said indignantly. "That aspect of our past relationship is off the table."

Crowley nearly laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," he said, rolling his eyes. "I merely want to attend that meeting with you. This Vincent character is well shielded, as is Raguel. So the only way I can personally attend will be as you. Therefore, I need you to open up."

Ammit's face screwed up in an expression of disgust. In many ways, what he was referring to now would be much worse. "Why should I?" she said defiantly.

"Because you owe me," he pointed out. "I could have just let Castiel kill you, you know." In fact, he still could. Due to their familial connection, Crowley knew that Castiel was on his way here, right now. They were coming by boat, so the four of them wouldn't arrive for a few hours yet. But if Ammit became too much of a thorn in Crowley's side, he could always arrange another meeting, one between Castiel and the King's former mistress that only Castiel would walk away from. But why should Crowley give her any warning?

Ammit let out a frustrated breath. "Very well. If you will remove your curse from my neck, I will transport you into the meeting."

Crowley's lips twitched. As if he was giving her a choice. Still, he could afford to appear magnanimous; after today, he wouldn't need the tracking spell any more, anyway.

"As usual, you drive a hard bargain," Crowley said, giving Ammit a slight nod of his head. He reached towards her neck, and she stood there stoically, looking him in the eye. He had to give her credit; she didn't even flinch.

"Ready, steady, go," Crowley murmured. He touched the mark on the back of Ammit's neck as she opened her mouth to let him in.

Vincent had told Placida, Blaise, and Phineas to wait at The Embarrassed Tiki for his call, but he was getting bored now. That was what he got for playing games. As one last parting shot, he had decided to brew up a nice little tropical storm for the intrepid quartet to deal with, meaning that their arrival might be further delayed. But he was having trouble with the delay of gratification now. So he'd called Placida to come to him, to keep him company. Besides, he thought that he would throw her a bit of a bone, so to speak. He was more powerful than she was, but still, she was a High Priestess, and she could be a very spiteful and vindictive woman. And her daughter, Blaise, was shaping up to be just the same. But Blaise wasn't Vincent's daughter, she was Phineas's. Or, so Placida claimed. She could just as easily have been sired by Barnabas, or any of the other men in their group. Vincent doubted that she even really knew, herself. All Vincent knew was that Blaise wasn't his daughter, Gail was, and the closer Gail got, the more excited Vincent became. So he and Placida had had a quick session up against the wall of the cottage, and now they were sitting in armchairs drinking rum punch from tall glasses, like the King and Queen of the Caribbean, about to receive their subjects.

Raguel was the first to arrive, and he looked even more sour-faced than usual when he saw Placida. Vincent wondered if the Archangel was a racist, as well. It wouldn't surprise him one bit.

"Have a seat," Vincent told him. "We're just waiting for Ammit to arrive." He didn't bother offering Raguel a drink; he knew better by now.

A few minutes later, Ammit arrived, and she also regarded Placida curiously, but with an expression of interest, rather than disgust. "Raguel," she said coolly, passing by his chair on the way to the bar. She helped herself to a drink. Vincent didn't mind. He was used to the Demon Goddess taking these kinds of liberties by now.

Crowley needed the drink to steady his nerves. Imagine his shock when he had walked into the cottage and seen the man who had come into that Scottish pub centuries ago. The man wearing all black, with the red, glowing eyes, who had offered Fergus MacLeod his Demon deal. That man had been Vincent? His father?

Crowley had been knocked for a loop, and he was also trying to make the adjustment to being in a voluptuous female body. It was a good thing that Dean Winchester couldn't do what otherworldly beings could do, Crowley thought with great amusement. Moose would probably never see his brother again, once Dean discovered the joys of self-exploration. He made himself a strong one and then sauntered over to the chair beside Raguel, slowly enough to get his equilibrium back.

"I asked the two of you here to let you know that I'm hereby dissolving our partnership," Vincent said calmly.

"What? Why?" Raguel said angrily.

"Because you're a pucker-faced, self-righteous prig, who won't let one drop of liquor pass your lips," Vincent said nastily. "Because you're a paper tiger. A Trojan horse. You're Fox News. All show, no go. You're a useless piece of shit, who thinks he's better than the likes of us. Need any more reasons?"

"How dare you talk to me that way?" Raguel demanded indignantly.

"How's that search for the Books going?" Vincent retorted. "Have you got any valuable information to share with your partners on that score?"

"No," Raguel replied, tight-lipped.

"Then, you're hereby voted off the island," Vincent said affably. "Don't let the cottage door hit your Sainted butt on the way out."

Crowley sniggered, and Vincent smiled. He wondered if Demon Goddesses held long grudges. After he told Ammit her services were no longer required, Vincent wondered if he could talk her into sticking around for a bit. Placida could stay, too. It wasn't like that would be their first time participating in those sorts of multiple-partner activities.

But, business first. "Oh, and Ammit, you're gone, too. I'm downsizing the organization," Vincent said, taking a drink. "No hard feelings, I hope. I've enjoyed our association tremendously. In fact, I was hoping you would hang around for a while afterwards, so that you and I and Placida could engage in a little...debriefing session. You should pardon the pun." He giggled.

Ammit's eyes widened slightly as Crowley realized what Vincent was getting at. Funnily enough, if Vincent hadn't been his father, Crowley might have considered it. It would certainly be...interesting. But there was no way. Vincent was Crowley's father. The King of Hell may be a vile, disgusting individual, but he had his morals.

Ammit was also present in the vessel, but because of Crowley's loftier standing, she was a witness only, unable to weigh in on the proceedings. She was surprised, but not outraged, as Raguel was. Truthfully, it was Vincent who was the useless party, as far as Ammit was concerned. She'd had success on her own without these men, and she was sure she would, again. But Crowley was in the drivers' seat now, and there would never be a better time for him to ask the question: "What's your endgame, Vincent? What are you hoping to accomplish, at the end of the day?"

Vincent looked at Ammit strangely. Bollocks. Crowley realized he was speaking like himself. What would Ammit have said? How would she handle being summarily dismissed like this? But, she wasn't telling. Let him figure it out for himself.

Ammit got up from her chair, draining her drink. Then she moved across the room and bent down to the table beside Vincent, affording him a generous view of her cleavage. "Want another?" Crowley had Ammit say in a throaty voice, picking up Vincent's empty glass.

Without waiting for a response, Crowley picked up Vincent's glass and took it and his own over to the bar, replenishing them. His ploy had worked. He'd distracted Vincent enough to move on from the sudden change in Ammit's speech pattern.

"I will find the Books on my own, and then, I will destroy you," Raguel said through gritted teeth. "I knew I should never have thrown in with the likes of you." He stood from his chair. "I will now take my leave of you."

Vincent laughed derisively. "You Angels. You're all so pompous. 'I will now take my leave of you'. Who talks like that? Give me a break. Maybe you should spend time with some normal people. See if they can't rub off on you. At least get laid, for Heaven's sake. Then again, who would want to be with a prig like you? Even Crowley's mother wouldn't throw you one, and she's a whore. Am I right, Crowley?"

Ammit's head snapped up, and Vincent laughed. "I knew it was you, all along," he said to his son. "Bring that drink over here, Fergus. Let's have a chat."

Gail and Captain Beaumont had chatted for a few minutes when she'd first gotten there. Cas had popped her over to the pier, helping her with the luggage. They'd had to stay out of sight, of course, so he'd gotten her as close to the boat as he could. Then he'd given her a quick kiss and said he would be right back with the Winchesters, and the chest.

She had struggled down the pier with the bags, and Captain Ken had seen her, so he'd gone down to help. The luggage was stowed below decks now, but there was still no sign of the men. Gail wondered if she should be worried, and then she decided it was too soon for that. Besides, it was Cas who had been worried about leaving her here, alone. But she had her blade in her pocket now, and it would not leave her side from now on. The vacation was over, and the mission had begun.

After a couple more minutes of idle chit-chat, Beaumont told Gail he had to do his pre-sail inspection. She was standing on deck, enjoying the breeze and waiting for the guys to appear. What were they going to encounter when they got to St. Vincent? Was this location spell thingie even going to work? And if it did, who and what were they going to find on the other end of it?

Ken had no "pre-sail inspection" to do. He'd just said that, to make it sound official. He was pretty sure the girl wouldn't know the difference, anyway. He took the piece of paper out of his pocket and studied it, then took the acetylene torch out of the tool box. He propped up the paper, fired up the torch, and scorched the symbols onto the wall. Then he hammered a nail above that spot, and hung a print of a sailboat on the wall to cover the symbol. He quickly repeated the procedure on the opposite wall. Then he burned the paper with the flame of the torch, as Papa had instructed him to do.

He finished just in time. He could hear the mens' voices as they boarded the boat. Vincent had said that they would be loading a very heavy chest. Captain Ken had asked him what was in the chest, and what the significance of the strange-looking symbols was, and Papa Legba had stared at him wordlessly for a moment. Ken's throat had dried up. Why the hell had he opened up his big mouth? Now, Papa was going to curse him for the rest of his life. But after a moment, the Voodoo Priest had merely chuckled and said that the contents of the chest were none of his business, and that the symbols were designed to make his guests feel more welcome. Then he had given the Captain some more money, calling it a damage deposit, and that had been the end of it.

Gail had been relieved to see the guys. She was on edge now, fearing what they would encounter once they got to the place. If all three of their enemies were there, they might be in big trouble. Cas could call on Bobby, of course, or Gabriel, if they needed backup. However, the only one of their enemies they actually knew how to kill was Ammit; they just had to get close enough to her to do it. But why on earth would Ammit allow any of them to get that close to her? If Gail were Ammit, she would just pop out of there, if she felt threatened. The guys had pentagram handcuffs in their bag, but Gail wondered if they would be enough to restrain Ammit. Assuming they were lucky enough to even get that close to her, of course.

They had no idea how to kill Raguel. None whatsoever. They had brainstormed with Gabriel about that, and he had told them that he didn't know. But there had been a certain tone to his voice when he'd said it, so Cas had pressed him. Finally, their Archangel friend had admitted that he might have been able to kill Raguel with his Angel blade, if he'd still had it. Cas had pursed his lips together in frustration. This subject had come up before, more than once. He didn't want to seem insensitive to the reason that Gabriel had pitched the blade in the first place, but Cas was really starting to think that they needed to mount some kind of search for the blade in future. It was on their To Do list. But as things stood right now, they had no way of killing Raguel, and Heaven's jail would not hold an Archangel for long.

Then, there was Vincent, himself. In a way, what they were doing now was sheer lunacy. Even if they found Vincent, what were they supposed to DO about him? They couldn't kill him. So then, what exactly were they hoping to accomplish?

Cas saw Gail's point when she expressed this thought to him, but he was tired of being passive about their enemies. What were they supposed to do, just sit around and wait for one of them to make a move? He didn't think so. As far as he was concerned, if Vincent couldn't be killed, that just made the man a better candidate for torture. Vincent had a lot to answer for, and Castiel was an eternal being, too.

So, as Captain Beaumont hauled the line and started up the engine, and Vincent was having his meeting with the others, the black storm clouds started to form in the distance. And the sigils that Ken had burned into the walls of his boat would ensure that the Angels remained on board for the ride.

VIGNETTE - WALK TO THE WATER

The trip began uneventfully enough. It was a warm, sunny day, but Gail didn't mind too much. She had grown a little more used to the warm temperatures here, and now that they were moving, there was a steady breeze that made the heat more bearable.

The four of them had nothing to do but relax until they got there, so they were sitting up on deck talking, reminiscing about their week.

"Boy, some of the people here are really poor," Sam commented. "You know, sometimes we forget how lucky we really are."

"I know," Gail agreed. "And I couldn't help but notice that all of the employees at the resorts are black, and all the guests are white. I can just imagine what Paul would have to say about that."

Cas was thoughtful. "I believe he has become more calm about the whole racial issue, but he would probably say that that was due to 'white privilege'."

"He would have a point, though, wouldn't he?" Sam said quietly.

"I suppose he might, Sam," Cas answered in kind. "But, because none of us has ever been black, it's hard for us to look at things from that perspective."

"Oh, I don't know about that, sweetie," Gail said to her husband, her lips twitching now. "Technically, you have, if only very briefly."

"I beg your pardon?" Cas said, puzzled.

"Remember when you had Paul's essence inside of you, in Paris?" she teased him. "You even spoke differently. It was weird, but it was kind of cute, at the same time."

"Well, that just confirms the old saying," Dean piped up, and all three of them looked at him quizzically. Dean was smirking. "Once you go Cas, you never go back."

There was silence for a moment, and then Gail burst out laughing. That had caught her by surprise, and maybe because she'd been feeling so apprehensive, she found the joke far funnier than she should have, perhaps. Still, she blessed him for giving her that release. Just like Frank would have done. She stuck her hand up. "Up top," she said, and she and Dean high-fived smartly.

Captain Beaumont came up from below decks. "I wanted to let you know that we'll be there in just a few minutes," he told them. "I'm dropping you off at the southernmost tip of the island. The beach there is predominantly made up of black sand. That's what you wanted, right? I'll wait for you to do whatever you need to do there, and then I'll take you wherever you want to go after that."

Ken was pleased. Financially speaking, he was making out like a bandit. Papa Legba had paid him a good deal of money to take these people to the island, and the one called Cas had paid him almost as generously to wait until they placed the chest they had brought with them into the water, and then follow it to where it led.

He threw anchor shortly thereafter, and the men carried the chest off the boat.

"Are we sure this thing isn't gonna just sink right to the bottom?" Dean said doubtfully.

Sam had been wondering that same thing himself. How could something that took three grown men to carry be that buoyant? But then again, look at what they were about to do, here. They were about to throw a stolen pirate's chest containing an urn which held the cremated bones of one live man and one dead one, as well as seven drops of an Angel's blood, into the water in hopes of tracking down an immortal High Priest of voodoo. You couldn't write something like that in a novel, because nobody would ever believe it. Sure, the chest would float. Of course it would.

"Are we ready to do this?" Dean asked the others, and Sam and Cas nodded. The men hefted the chest, and then threw it in the water with a big splash. It sank immediately.

"Oh, great!" Gail lamented. "What now?"

But suddenly, the chest bobbed back up to the surface, and then it slowly started to drift away from the beach. "Well, well. How about that?" Sam mused out loud, shaking his head.

They all watched the chest float leisurely away from shore for a moment, and then, just as the group turned to go back to their boat, Placida suddenly appeared.

She was laughing. "You men may be pretty, but you're not very smart," she said to them. "You have played right into his hands."

"What are you talking about?" Cas said angrily.

"He tricked you into bringing him the very thing he needs to find the Book of the Dead, by coming right here to our Secret Cove, where it all began," Placida said smugly. "Did you not wonder why you were bringing him Blackbeard's chest? Our Demon brother's skull is in it, and once Vincent drinks from it, he will be shown the way. Oh, and now he has the bones, and an Angel's blood, too. His own daughter's. Just imagine the spells he will be able to cast!" She laughed again.

Gail saw red. "Oh, hell, no! He's not going to play us for fools!" she shouted. The winds had picked up, and if Gail had been looking out to the horizon, she would have seen the dark clouds gathering off in the distance. But she was absolutely furious right now. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she ran towards the water from the beach. She was about to jump into the water when Cas caught her by the waist, pulling her back.

"What are you doing?" he shouted over the noise of the wind, which was picking up with the approaching storm. "You can't swim!" But that gave Cas an idea. "Please take care of her," he said to Dean. Then Cas gave a slight nod to Sam, and the two of them quickly stripped down to their shorts and dove into the water, swimming after the chest.

Gail took out her blade, and Dean produced a gun from somewhere on his person. Gail hadn't seen where. They turned to where Placida had been standing, but predictably enough, she had vanished.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed, frustrated. He grabbed Gail by the hand. "Let's get back on that ship. Here, give me Sammy's clothes." She had instinctively stooped to gather up the clothes that the men had shed. "We're gonna need his cell phone," Dean added.

They raced over to where the boat was anchored. "Ken! Kenny!" Dean shouted. "Let's haul ass!"

"To where?" Captain Beaumont asked, startled by Dean's tone.

"Follow Sam and Cas, and that chest," Dean commanded, pointing.

The Captain pulled up the anchor, preparing to do as his customer said. But now, he was looking apprehensively at the darkening clouds. "Whatever you're trying to do, you'd better be quick about it," he told Dean and Gail.

"Awww, geez," Dean said, but Gail smiled faintly. If the storm became too bad, she could just wink them all off the boat. She put her hand on his arm. "Why did you say we were going to need Sam's cell phone?" she asked Dean curiously.

Dean fished into the pocket of Sam's jeans. "You probably wondered what took us so long to get here, when we were only supposed to be getting the urn and putting it in the chest, right?" he said to her.

Gail nodded. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I WAS wondering about that."

"This is why," Dean said. He took Sam's cell phone out of his brother's pants and waggled it at her. "We've been burned by stuff like this way too many times. So, when Cas was getting the urn out of the safe to put in the chest, Sam went into the storeroom to get a GPS locator. He linked the thing up to his phone, put it in a waterproof pouch, and stuck it in the urn, before we closed up the chest. This way, if those guys lose the chest now, we can still find it, using the tech."

Gail was astonished. "That's great!" she exclaimed. "Sam's brilliant!"

"Yeah, he's OK," Dean said, grinning. He turned the phone on.

The chest had started to pick up speed as it floated out into the open waters, and the men had noticed the darkening skies by now. "We'd better go back!" Sam shouted. "Look!"

Cas frowned. Sam was right. Besides, they had the GPS locator as backup. He too thought that had been a brilliant idea of Sam's. Especially now, now that they knew the real reason that Vincent had wanted to take possession of the chest. They had to stop him. "We'd better swim back," Sam said.

"No need," Cas told him. "If you can come over here, I'll pop us both back."

"I don't think you'll have to do that," Sam said, pointing behind Cas. The Angel looked, and he saw that the ship was coming towards them. They treaded water for a couple of minutes, and then Dean was bending down and extending his hand, helping the men on board.

"Is the program working?" Sam asked his brother, taking the towel that Gail handed him.

"Like a charm," Dean said. "Pinging away." He showed his brother the phone. "The chest was moving pretty fast there for a few minutes, but now, it's stopped."

Cas had already dried himself off, and he was getting dressed now. "That means that Vincent must be nearby," he remarked. He looked at Captain Beaumont. "Can you follow the GPS signal?"

"Sure I can," Ken said.

Vincent waded into the cove and retrieved the chest, dragging it onto the beach. Maybe it took three ordinary men to carry the thing, but Vincent felt super-strong right now. This was his home, and these were his waters. He sank to his knees and opened the chest.

"Here, hold this," he said to Placida, shoving the urn into her hands. But as Vincent felt around the inside of the chest, looking for the trip for the false bottom, Placida held the urn up to her ear. "What's that sound?" she asked him. She opened the urn and took out the pouch with the GPS locator, showing it to him.

Vincent's mouth fell open, but then, he started to grin. He tripped the switch for the false bottom and took out the skull, holding it reverently in his hands for a moment. But there was no time to gloat right now.

"Put that in here," he commanded Placida. She bent down and placed the bag in the chest. Vincent dropped the lid and pushed the chest back into the water. He spoke a few words, holding Blackbeard's skull aloft, and the chest started to float away, picking up speed as the pre-storm waters started to churn.

"What fun the four of you are going to be," Vincent said, grinning again. "Enjoy your storm." Then he looked at Placida, and the two of them disappeared.

"It's on the move again, in the open waters," Sam announced, looking intently at his cell phone.

"I thought you said it had stopped," Gail said, puzzled.

"It must have gotten stuck on something," Sam remarked. "It's moving pretty fast, now."

"We'd better hurry up and catch it," Dean said, squinting at the sky. "That storm's gonna be here any minute."

"I hate to tell you this, but it's too late," Captain Beaumont said to them. "As the saying goes, batten down the hatches. If I were all of you, I would get below decks, now. The storm'll hit in just a few minutes, and it looks like it's going to be a nasty one."

They went below decks as he'd suggested, and a few minutes later, the boat started to list from side to side. Gail looked nervously at Cas. At what point should they give it up, and just wink everybody off the boat? How bad was the storm going to be, anyway?

Vincent had been ready to release Raguel and Ammit after he'd cut them loose, but when he'd discovered that Crowley had possession of Ammit, Vincent had seen an opportunity. So he had enclosed Raguel in a ring of Holy Oil and set it on fire, and he had slapped a set of pentagram handcuffs on Ammit and chained her vessel to a chair with a Devil's Trap underneath.

"These things will not hold us long," Raguel had fumed, and Vincent had smiled at him.

"I know," Vincent said calmly. "But it amuses me to speculate which of you will get free first, and what that one will do to the other one. Or maybe you'll team up, and work together. I don't really care. Once I have the Book of the Dead, you'll all be dancing to my tune, anyway. That's if I let you live, of course."

Then he and Placida had disappeared from the cottage, leaving Raguel and Crowley to glare at each other.

"What are you looking at?" Ammit sneered, struggling with the bonds. Crowley was frustrated. Even though his was the dominant essence, hers was the weaker vessel. If he'd been himself, he could have at least slipped the cuffs by now, and been working on the chains and the Devil's Trap.

Raguel's eyebrows raised. He knew now that it was Crowley in that female's vessel, but it was still difficult for him to hear her talking to him that way.

"I am just thinking that I'm being afforded a unique opportunity," Raguel said casually, walking around within the flaming circle. "Once I figure out how to get out of this, I believe I may be able to kill you, while you are in that vessel."

"You think so, do you?" Crowley said, still straining against the cuffs. "You can't even step out of a hoop of fire, and you're going to kill the King of Hell? Good luck with that."

"I killed Castiel," Raguel bragged.

"No, you bloody well didn't!" Ammit shouted. "You're delusional. Take that off your resume, because it never happened!"

"Is Vincent really your father, Crowley?" Raguel asked him/her. He was trying to approach the border of the circle, but the fire kept repelling him back.

The King frowned. "So it would seem."

Incredibly, Raguel gave him a sour smile. "That surprises me far less than it should. But what's really surprising is the fact that Castiel's wife is your sister. I'm amazed that he would elect to be married to such a woman. As far as I'm concerned, all of you deserve what's about to befall you."

"Oh, really? And what about you?" Crowley said angrily. "What gives you the impression that you're any better? Because Father let you play with the Big Boys, once in a while? He used you as His blunt instrument, and now you're upset because they don't want you in Heaven. Why don't you just fall on your Angel blade, and be done with it?"

"Because the Book of Life is still out there," Raguel said, tight-lipped. "Let Vincent believe he is in control, but when I acquire the Book of Life, I will rule Heaven. Then, all but the Righteous will be vanquished."

Crowley rolled Ammit's eyes. "Yes, yes. Blah, blah, blah." Then the handcuffs fell to the floor with a clatter, and the chains soon followed. She smiled. It was about time. He rose from the chair and grabbed the handcuffs, moving to the edge of the Devil's Trap. Then Ammit squatted, scraping the metal of the handcuffs on the paint of the Devil's Trap. "Stop looking down my blouse," Crowley quipped. He was highly amused now. He would be free in a minute or two, and this stuffed-shirt, self-righteous prig would still be blowing on the flames, trying to put them out.

Sure enough, a minute later the Trap was sprung, and Ammit stepped outside the circle, smiling triumphantly. Crowley stared at Raguel speculatively. "So, where were we? Oh, yes. We were talking about how you were going to vanquish me." He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, he was holding an Angel blade.

"I cannot be killed with an ordinary Angel blade," Raguel told the King of Hell. "Don't you think Castiel would have done that by now, if it was that simple?"

Crowley shrugged. "Who said anything about killing you? Maybe I'll just remove a body part, or two. Maybe I should start with your nose, as you seem to enjoy looking down it at people like me, and my family." Crowley suddenly realized something: he was extremely angry. How DARE someone like Raguel throw in with Vincent, and then talk about them all as if they were lowly maggots that he was too good to associate with? The way that Raguel had talked about Gail and Castiel had especially bothered Crowley, for some reason. He wasn't familiar with the thought process, because he had never thought in terms of a sibling before; at least, not a live one, who was a constant part of his life. Cain had killed Abel without ever really getting to know his brother. But Crowley had known Gail for a number of years now, and he had spent way more time with Castiel since she had come into both of their existences this time round. Even though he had been extremely contentious with them both a number of times, now that he knew that Gail was his sister, Crowley felt a strange sort of protectiveness towards her. A tug of affection, even. Frank or Dean would have been able to tell him what that was like. They could rag on their siblings all they wanted, but Heaven help the guy who insulted Gail or Sammy on their watch.

Crowley's grip tightened on the blade, but all of a sudden, a big gust of wind shifted some of the thatch on the roof of the cottage, letting the rain from the storm in. Both men were soaked instantly, and the water doused the flames in the circle of Holy Oil, setting Raguel free. He disappeared immediately.

Crowley chuffed out a breath. Bollocks. Oh, well. He wasn't too worried about Raguel. The Archangel wasn't exactly a formidable foe, despite his vaunted reputation. Technically, Raguel outranked Castiel, now that Crowley's brother had stepped down from the Office, but Crowley knew which one of the two he'd rather fight. He idly wondered how Castiel and the others were making out on their boat. The King smirked. It couldn't be smooth sailing, not in this storm. Vincent had told Crowley and Raguel what was going on before he and Placida had left here, like a cliche movie villain. Castiel and Gail would be unable to wink themselves and the Winchesters off the boat, due to the sigils that Vincent had had the unwitting Captain Beaumont scorch onto the walls of his ship. Crowley had been highly amused by that. He could just picture them, pitching and rolling below decks, wondering why on earth they couldn't just pop out of there. If there was any kind of justice, Castiel would be green with nausea, vomiting off the side of the ship. But he wouldn't be, of course. John Alden would have faced rougher conditions as a seaman, back in the day. But Crowley could dream, couldn't he? He would pay dearly to see the scenario his imagination was conjuring up now. He truly would.

He snapped his fingers, transporting Ammit back to where his vessel was waiting.

At first, it hadn't been too bad. The boat had been rolling around a bit, but the four of them were going with it. To pass the time, they'd made a few nervous jokes about Gilligan's Island.

"I'm pretty sure this is what happened to the castaways," Dean said. "A three-hour tour, my ass." He nudged Sam. "Do you know how to make a radio out of coconuts, Sammy?"

Gail was shaking her head and smiling. Truth be told, her stomach was starting to feel a little fluttery, so she was glad of the distraction. "How many seasons was that show on, and they never got off the damn island," Dean grumbled. "I hate it when shows get cancelled like that, with no resolution."

"But they had that movie, didn't they?" Sam piped up. "Actually, I think they had several."

"Not the same," Dean said decisively. "Besides, can anybody tell me what the hell the Harlem Globetrotters were doing, stranded on a desert island? Anybody? Plotlines have to make sense."

Suddenly, Sam hiccupped, and he clutched at his stomach. "Things are getting pretty rough, you guys," he complained. "I hope I can hang in there long enough to come out the other side with all of you, this time."

Cas and Gail and Dean were all looking at each other now, and they were flashing back to another time on another boat, the one that was taking them to the New World.

"I saw you guys, you know," Dean said to the couple.

"I beg your pardon, Dean?" Cas said, but he took Gail's hand, smiling at her.

"I saw you two, in your favourite spot up on deck," Dean repeated. "Smooching away, like you didn't have a care in the world."

"We didn't, Dean. We were in love," Gail said simply.

"Yeah, well, times were different back then," Dean said, almost angrily. "You guys weren't even married, when we were on that ship. I never told anybody what I saw, but if I saw you, other people probably did, too. That was stupid."

"Why are you so angry, Dean?" Cas asked their friend, mystified.

"Because I'm sick of watching you die, Cas! You, too," Dean added, looking at Gail.

"Well, hosting your funeral wasn't exactly on our list of fun things to do, either," Gail retorted, "but, we did it. It's not our fault that people have been persecuting us, over the centuries!"

"Why?" Dean demanded. "WHY have they been persecuting you? Did it ever occur to you that that's weird? I'm sure there was a lot of extramarital hanky-panky going on, back then. Why single you guys out?"

As Gail was puzzling over that, the ship listed heavily to one side. They heard a crashing noise, and Sam put his head between his knees.

"The storm's getting worse," Cas stated, but now Dean was feeling too sick to call him Captain Obvious. And Gail was feeling it, too. "Maybe we should just get Captain Beaumont, and get off this thing," she said to Cas.

He thought for a moment. Perhaps that would be best. But then, what would happen to their attempt to find Vincent?

"No. Screw that," Dean said, struggling to his feet. "We didn't come all this way just to let that guy off the hook. Maybe we should go up on deck. See what we're dealing with."

Cas helped Gail to her feet, and the three of them started to get their sea legs as they began to move. Sam was still extremely queasy, though. He'd never made it to the New World back then, and he was starting to think he wasn't going to make it this time, either. In fact, death was starting to feel like the preferable option.

"Dean, if you will help Gail up top, I will take Sam off the boat, and back to the resort in the Dominican Republic," Cas said. "Here, give me your phone, Sam." He took the cell phone from his friend's hand and tossed it to Dean, who caught it neatly. "I'll be right back," Cas told Gail and Dean. Then Cas put his arm around Sam's waist and slung Sam's arm around his shoulders, supporting him. Cas went to wink them off the boat, and...nothing happened. He tried again. Still, nothing.

Dean had already taken Gail by the elbow and steered her up the steps to the deck. The ship was still pitching back and forth, but they both had fairly good footing at the moment. It was as if their recall of being on the boat on the way to the New World had helped them cope with the storm.

Dean actually felt exhilarated when they stepped out onto the deck. What an adventure this was turning out to be. He felt like he was in some kind of blockbuster seafaring movie, or something. "This is great!" he yelled to Gail, over the high winds and pelting rain. "I feel like I'm in the Pirates of the Freakin' Caribbean! This is the coolest vacation we've ever had!"

Gail couldn't help but smile. Only Dean could take a situation like this and make it into something that seemed desirable. "You're nuts!" she shouted. The rain was soaking her and the wind was blowing her hair all over the place, but she felt strangely exhilarated, too. "We're in a freaking hurricane, here! If the ship sinks while Cas is gone, you're going to have to rescue me from drowning!"

"Don't worry, I'll find a door for you to float on," Dean quipped, and he grinned at the look on her face. "Yeah, yeah. I saw the stupid movie, too. Don't tell Sam or Frank I said that, though."

"I heard. But, don't worry; I'm gonna be dead in a couple of minutes, anyway," Sam groaned from behind them. Cas was still holding Dean's brother up, and the younger Winchester was still retching.

"Cas! What the hell?" Dean exclaimed.

"I can't wink off the boat, Dean! Something is wrong!" Cas told him, agitated.

Great, Dean thought. Just great. Poor Sammy looked like he was gonna toss his cookies any second, now.

"Can you take him?" Cas asked Dean, handing Sam over to his brother. "I'm going to go find Captain Beaumont. Are you all right, my love?" he asked Gail.

"I'm fine, Cas," she assured him.

"Thanks for having such a crappy family, Gail!" Dean said cheerfully. Cas frowned. "Dean!" he admonished their friend, but Gail laughed and laughed.

"Hey, if I'm going to die, that wasn't a bad one to go out on," she said to Dean, grabbing on to the railing for balance.

"Nobody's going to die," Cas said harshly. "I'm going to get Captain Beaumont to take us out of this mess."

But the Captain was nowhere to be found, because when the quartet had been below decks, Ken Beaumont had fallen overboard, and his dead body had been washed away by the choppy seas. Cas came back to the group to tell them the bad news. They had no Captain, his and Gail's powers didn't work here for some reason, and Cas could do a lot of things, but he had no idea how to safely pilot a boat to shore.

"Oh, for crap's sake," Sam moaned. He lifted his head up to the skies and bellowed, "Bobby! Either help us out, or drown me, now!"

A minute later, the storm abruptly ceased, and Bobby was standing on deck with them. "Why dint'cha call me sooner?" he asked the bedraggled group.

Cas's face broke into a relieved smile. "I believe that would be my fault, Bobby," he said sheepishly. "I'm still so used to being God that it never occurred to me to call on God for help."

Bobby was looking around. "Where are the sigils?" he asked Cas, and the Angels looked at each other. Ohhh, so that had been the problem. But, why would Captain Beaumont have had sigils on his boat?

"I think somebody's been pullin' a fast one on you," Bobby said matter-of-factly. "So, where do we stand on finding the bad guys?"

Dean pulled Sam's cell phone out of his pocket, where he'd stashed it to try to keep it dry. He explained Sam's idea to Bobby, who nodded in approval. "Well, dollars to doughnuts that when you track the stupid thing down, Vincent's gonna be miles away from it," Bobby said pessimistically. "But that was still good thinking, Boy," he said to Sam, who seemed to be regaining the colour in his cheeks now. "Just to be on the safe side, we'll check it out, though," Bobby added. "Any chance you can tell me what those coordinates are? Latitude and longitude would be ideal, but if that program thingie can't tell me that, I'll just steer by the sun." He headed off towards the engine room as the four of them looked at each other. Bobby knew how to pilot a boat? Who the hell knew?

And as Bobby had predicted, by the time they got to where the chest sat, wedged in-between some rocks near another cove, Vincent was nowhere to be found.


	2. Heaven's Gate

Chapter 1 - Heaven's Gate

Vincent had Barnabas mix up the strongest cocktail he had, and when it was ready, the bartender poured it slowly and reverently into the skull. Young MacKenzie would have been astonished at just how close he had come to predicting the procedure with his made-up phrase.

"Leave," Vincent instructed the bartender. "Go back to the cottage, and wait for me there."

Barnabas took his leave immediately. He knew better than to argue.

Vincent carried the drink carefully over to the dark booth in the corner. He placed it on the table, and then sat there, looking down at it. Finally, his vision was about to come. He took a deep breath, then lifted the skull with both hands and drank the potion down.

He closed his eyes, and eventually, he saw himself walking on the beach. It was a clear but starless night, and as he looked up at the pitch-black sky, he saw something written in capital letters, in flames: "THE BOOK OF COMING FORTH". Vincent grinned. Now he was getting somewhere.

He walked on down the beach, and the sands began to shift, building themselves into a giant pyramid. He walked inside, and to his surprise, there were a group of people already standing there, as if they had been waiting for him. There was Castiel, looking at Vincent dispassionately. Abigail was standing beside him, regarding Vincent with her big cow eyes. How he hated that expression. Maybe he would just kill her, when he got back to the States. It wasn't as if he needed her for anything anymore, anyway. She had done her job, by mothering Gail. Gail was here too, of course, and she was staring openly at Vincent with an expression of frank speculation. What a revelation SHE had turned out to be. Vincent hadn't thought too much of his daughter in her younger years. She'd been too soft, too introverted for his liking. So he'd screwed with her and set Crowley on her, just to see what would happen. It hadn't been monsters who had mortally wounded Frank's father that night, it had been Vincent, wearing a disguise. He'd correctly assumed that Christina would seek a crossroads deal to bring her husband back, thereby bringing the King of Hell into their home, and into their lives. It was amazing how easily people who had consciences and feelings for others could be manipulated. That was one thing that Vincent had over all of his enemies. He had no sentiment whatsoever; therefore, there was nothing for anyone to hang over his head. Castiel could offer to torture or kill anyone who was even remotely connected to Vincent, and he wouldn't bat an eye. The only reason Vincent sired children, the ONLY reason, was to ensure his own continued survival. JD's murder had hurt Vincent physically, putting that black mark on his face, but that had only been because he had been one of the designates. A pure killing machine that his father had sent into the bosom of the God Squad to do a little slicing and dicing. But it hadn't worked out that way. Gail had seen to that. Vincent respected his daughter one hell of a lot more these days, but the first thing he was going to do when he got his hands on the Book of the Dead was kill her, and then turn her over to his side. It was becoming really inconvenient that she was an Angel, and Vincent knew that she would never leave Castiel on her own. Maybe it would be easier for Vincent to manipulate her now that her Exalted husband wasn't God any more, though. Now that Castiel had voluntarily given up his Godly powers, he was a little more vulnerable. Perhaps Vincent could take advantage of that. He still firmly believed that Gail was able to be lured to the so-called "dark side". You could see the signs. All she needed was the right carrot. The proper incentive.

The Winchesters were here in his vision too, of course, because they were always around. Vincent had really been hoping that one or the other, or even both, would have drowned in that tropical storm, but no such luck. They had called on their God, Bobby Singer, to rescue them. They were here in his vision, looking tall and strong, but Vincent knew their greatest weakness was their love for each other, and for their family. But the brothers shouldn't be too much of a threat to Vincent. When his Army of the Undead roamed the earth, the brothers would have their hands full, anyway.

"Is everyone ready for the tour?" a man asked the group, and Vincent was bemused to see that the tour guide was his brother, Oliver. He grinned. Maybe now that Oliver had been able to escape the surly bonds of Earth, he was on a higher plane of understanding.

"Wait for me," a young black man said, appearing out of nowhere. "I haven't had much to do for Heaven lately, but I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"What do you have to do with this, Paul?" Gail asked the young Angel.

"I don't know," he answered her honestly. "Just showed up to take the tour, like everybody else."

Vincent's eyes narrowed. He could tell that the young guy was an Angel, but Vincent was getting a different vibe from him too, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Are we ready to start the tour now?" Cas said, annoyed. "I'm quite anxious to find out where the Book of the Dead is located."

"Yeah, I'll just bet you are," Vincent said, sneering at him. "But this is my vision, not yours. Get to the back of the line."

Cas said something softly in Enochian, but he made no move to accost Gail's father. Vincent grinned again. "Someday, we'll all look back on this and laugh," he said to Vision Cas. "You are part of my family, after all."

Cas said something else in Enochian, and this time, he spoke sharply enough to make Vincent look into his eyes. Had Gail's husband just sworn at him, in the ancient language? Maybe Vincent should rethink killing Castiel; at least, not right away, anyway. He was simply too much fun.

They all fell behind Oliver, who led the way through the narrow passages of the tomb. The group passed Crowley, who was standing casually in a dark corner. His eyes moved over everyone as they passed by. Vincent was glad to see that Raguel hadn't been able to kill his son. How embarrassing that would have been. Besides, Crowley was a perfect arch-enemy for Castiel. A thorn in the Angel's side, to say the very least. But again, Vincent really had no personal stake in who lived and who died, even among his own family. He just enjoyed seeing certain matchups.

Oh, look. There was the current God, Bobby Singer. He was standing in the opposite corner from where Crowley stood, fittingly enough. He looked at Vincent with narrowed eyes. The two of them had not yet formally met, but Vincent was thinking now that he had been remiss in not making Bobby's acquaintance.

Cas had taken Gail's hand, and he was helping her up and over a waist-high barrier that had suddenly appeared, on the way to the next chamber. Awww. How sweet. Vincent wondered about those two, sometimes. By all accounts, his daughter was a fierce warrior these days, and a staunch feminist. Castiel was one of the oldest beings in Creation, old-fashioned and chivalrous. But he was also from the era where women were to be seen and not heard from. How did the two of them resolve that dichotomy?

Vincent rolled his eyes. If the Angels got the Books, they would probably just let them go to waste. Lock them up in Heaven until the pages grew sallow and mouldy, just like all of the Angels would be, if Raguel were to get his way and rule Heaven. And Vincent wouldn't even particularly mind if Ammit wanted to carve out her own little gynocracy. But he knew that she wouldn't be content to just leave it at that, and that was unacceptable to him.

But neither Raguel or Ammit were here now, Vincent was, and as he stepped into the chamber where the huge sarcophagus was, he could see a man with a sandy beard, furiously writing with a quill pen on a scrap of papyrus. Probably just recording the events for posterity. Seemed like a good idea to Vincent. This was going to be epic. Curious, though: there was another man, looking over the bearded man's shoulder as he wrote. The bearded man didn't seem to be aware of the man's presence, though.

The Winchester brothers were looking at the sarcophagus, making pop culture references to the movies, and Gail was laughing. Vincent's daughter had come a long way, but in his opinion, her heart was still far too tender. Maybe he should just kill the Winchesters, right now. That might slow her roll a little.

"Hey, Vince. What's happening?"

Vincent was startled to see a man of average height leaning against the wall of the chamber, smirking at him. "It's Vincent," he said darkly.

"'It's Vincent'," Gabriel mocked him in a childish tone. "So, you think you're gonna be the Zombie King, do you? What the hell's the point of THAT? What's your endgame, Vincent? Really?"

"Who are you?" Vincent asked him, mystified.

"Never you mind," Gabe said insolently. "Look, Vince, I'm all for a good time, but I can't let you hurt my family. Just so you know."

Gail's father laughed derisively. "You? Who are YOU to tell me what to do?"

"Me? I'm an Archangel," Gabriel told him. "And not the flaccid kind either, not like Raguel." His eyes flashed purple, and his wings sprouted out of his back, spreading themselves wide.

"Step right up, and see the Pyramid Texts," Oliver said to the group. He creaked open the sarcophagus lid, taking out a scroll of papyrus. "One-half of the Book of the Dead."

"What?!" Vincent exclaimed loudly, and his voice echoed off the walls of the tomb.

Oliver smiled. "I thought you would know that, Vincent, seeing as death is a sort of hobby of yours. There are two halves to the Book of the Dead: The Pyramid Texts, and the Coffin Texts. The Pyramid Texts can be used to re-animate bodies. There are Utterances, or spells, as you would call them, to recite, to rise people from their tombs." Now Oliver was speaking to the entire group, who were all listening attentively. "Or, rise people from their graves, as the case may be," Oliver continued affably. "The Coffin Texts are both simpler, and more complex. Simpler, in that the Utterances are shorter, but more complex, in that the deceased can only access the Afterlife if they negotiate a series of obstacles guarded by terrifying supernatural creatures. And, conversely, that's the only way they can get out. The monsters are humans with the heads of animals, or combinations of different ferocious beasts, and they are armed with very big, very sharp knives. Colloquially speaking, their names are things like 'He who lives in snakes', or 'He who dances on blood'. Sounds like you, big brother," he said to Vincent. Then he smiled. "But, there are people here in this very tomb who could run that gauntlet quite easily, aren't there?" Oliver looked at the Winchester brothers, and at Castiel and Gail.

"Who made you Indiana Jones, all of a sudden?" Vincent said to Oliver in an angry tone. "How do YOU know so much about this?"

"I've spent a lot of time in the Afterlife, now," Oliver said calmly, shrugging. "You pick up stuff." He looked at the assembled group again. "There's a spell that has to be done to find the Pyramid Texts. It was originally written on the walls of the Pyramid of Unas, who was the last King of the 5th Dynasty, in mid-24th Century, BC."

"You're talking about Saqqara," Gabriel said, perking up. He came away from the wall, looking at Oliver with interest.

"Yes, I am," Oliver said, looking pleased. "You know it?"

Gabe and Castiel exchanged glances. "Very well," Gabriel said. Then he made a face. "So does the guy who's lurking in the dark corner, pretending we can't see him. We know you're there, Crowley. Talk to Hakeem, if your memories are a little rusty. I'm sure his aren't."

"What are you talking about?" Gail asked Gabriel curiously.

"Saqqara's an ancient burial ground in Egypt," the Archangel told her.

"But, the Pyramid of Unas is no more," Castiel said, puzzled.

"Then we'll just have to go back, and write down the spell," Gabriel said, as if the answer were obvious. He smiled down at Gail. "How about it, Kitten? Haven't you always wanted to see Arabian Nights, for reals? I think Castiel would love to see you in a belly dancing outfit."

"Hold it," Vincent said, astonished. "Hold it, just a damn minute. This is my vision. Mine. Not any of yours. I drank from the skull, not any of you."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, but you didn't drink from Blackbeard's skull, dickwad." Gabriel reached out to Dean and high-fived him smartly, with only a minimum of jealousy that he hadn't thought to call Vincent by that name first. "You drank from a Hallowe'en prop. When one of the young guys who works at the maritime museum was cleaning the chest to put it on display, he accidentally tripped the false bottom. He found the real skull in there, and he took it. But then he started to feel weird about it, so he bought a two-dollar skull decoration and put it in the chest to replace the real thing. You drank out of a cheap-ass, dollar-store, bargain bin skull. Enjoy your hangover."

Vincent's eyes snapped open. This was unbelievable. It was impossible! He picked up the skull and examined it closely. How could this be? He turned it over in his hands, looking at the bottom, where there was an inscription: "Made In China".

He bellowed incoherently, hurling the skull at the wall, where it smashed into tiny little pieces. He sat there, breathing heavily, trying to hold onto his temper. All right. Fine. Fine.

In a way, this was Vincent's own fault, even though it pained him to admit it. He had perhaps played one game too many. But, he had to remember: there were other players involved in any given game, and the best and most exciting games were always the close ones. The opposing team was bound to score once in a while, too. It was inevitable. But it was the bottom line that counted. The final tally. If Gail was here, she would probably say that the most exciting games always went down to the last out of the ninth inning.

Of course, no one had ever said that Vincent had to play the game by the rules. If the Angels wanted to do the work, he had no problem with letting them. They were only going to get the ancient spell, anyway. But in the meantime, while Castiel was distracted, riding camels and watching his wife do the Dance of the Seven Veils, Vincent would be in Lebanon, Kansas. Planting the seed.

"So? You're kind of freaking me out, Linda," Paul was saying. "I wish you'd say something."

She was dazed. "You just asked me to marry you, out of the blue. I don't know WHAT to say."

His lips twitched. "Say yes. Or, say no. Say the Magic 8-Ball says to ask again later. Anything. Just don't leave me hanging, here."

Linda was astonished. Paul had totally blindsided her with this. "Why are you asking me now?" she asked him.

Paul smiled ruefully. "Well, I have to confess, I was looking for a little more happiness, and a little less suspicion. But if you want to know the truth, it's because I love you, because I like to be with you, and because Chuck told me he had a vision."

"So, Chuck told you to marry me," Linda said matter-of-factly.

Paul's face broke into a grin. This was just one of the many reasons he liked Linda so much. He knew she was joking, but she was so deadpan that many people found it difficult to tell. Even her own son had trouble, sometimes.

"In a manner of speaking, yeah," Paul said, taking her hand. "Cas and Gabriel are gonna ask me to help them on a couple of missions, according to Chuck. And I may or may not make it back alive."

"Don't talk like that," Linda said angrily.

"I have to, Linda," Paul said softly. "We've always been honest with each other."

She touched his face. "You don't have to go, do you?"

He raised an eyebrow to her. "Now what would you say if I asked YOU that question?"

Linda sighed. "I would say: of course I have to go. I owe Cas, for bringing me back to Heaven."

"My answer's the same," Paul responded promptly. "But, for the record, that's NOT what your answer would be."

"Is that right, smart guy?" Linda retorted. "Well, don't keep me in suspense. What would my answer have been?"

Paul cleared his throat. "'No man is going to tell me what I can, and cannot, do. You're lucky I even told you I was going!'" he said, imitating her.

Linda burst out laughing. "You've got me there," she remarked. "That's exactly what I would have said." She leaned forward and gave him a kiss. "And guess what else I have to say? Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Paul."

His face lit up, and he embraced her, kissing her on the mouth. After a moment, Linda poked him playfully. "Where's my ring?" she asked him.

"I was so sure you'd say no, I didn't get one," he told her sheepishly. Then, he frowned. "Do you think Kevin's going to be OK with it? I know we're getting along pretty well these days, but this is is a pretty big deal."

"There's only one way to find out," Linda said, taking him by the hand.

Bobby had set Kevin up in a spacious room, with multiple computer screens and a long table where he and his assistant could study the printouts of the Tablet markings, and compare them with the ever-expanding Glossary of Enochian words and phrases.

Emma was looking at the Glossary now, wrinkling her nose. "Are you sure this word is 'Ammit'?" she asked Kevin. "What kind of word is that?"

"She's not a word; she's a Demon Goddess," Kevin said with a brief grin. "I think we should concentrate on that passage. It seems to suggest that her claw can be used to kill any number of supernatural beings, including Gods and Goddesses. I want to find out more about that. It could be really important."

Emma's lips twitched. "Gee, do you think?" she teased Kevin, and he grinned. He really liked Emma. She was cute, she was funny, and she was smart as hell. But she was a little offbeat, too. She insisted on wearing glasses, even though everybody told her that she was an Angel now, and she didn't need them. She said they helped her think. And sometimes she spoke in non sequiturs, or offered little-known facts which may or may not be germane to the subject at hand. She was quirky, and she was endearing, and Kevin had been starting to question his sexuality again, ever since Bobby had brought her here to work with him.

Linda and Paul walked into the room, hand in hand. "Hi, Linda!" Emma said brightly. "Hey, Paul."

"Hi, Emma," Linda said. "We kind of want to talk to Kevin alone, for a minute. Will you please excuse us?"

"Yeah, sure, you're excused," Emma said, waving her hand absently. She had already bent her head to the Tablet text again.

Linda rolled her eyes, but she was too happy and too excited to worry about it right now. "We have some news," she said to Kevin.

"I think I might already know," her son told her. "Cas is going to ask Paul to go on a mission."

"Well, yes...but no, that's not it," Paul said nervously.

There was a moment's silence, and then Linda blurted out, "Paul asked me to marry him, and I'm going to."

Kevin looked at them both, open-mouthed. They waited for his reaction. It took another few moments, but eventually, Kevin smiled slowly. "I hope you know that I'm totally calling you 'Pops'," Kevin said to the young man.

Paul started to smile, too. "You know what?" he said to Linda's son. "I'll take it. Beats a lot of other things you could call me."

Kevin stuck his hand out for Paul to shake, while giving Linda a one-armed hug. "I'm happy for you guys," he stated. "I know there was a time, not too long ago, that I was a little weirded out by your relationship. But after that whole thing in Hell, I changed my mind. I just want you to be happy, Mom. Are you happy?"

"Yes, Kevin. I'm really happy," Linda said, wrapping her arms around her son.

"Now, we'll just have to figure out how to combine Korean with Southern Baptist, for the ceremony," Paul said with a grin.

"Did you know," Emma piped up, still studying the Glossary, "that the third right arm of a male octopus is his reproductive organ? Some species rip the arm off and hand it to the female."

Paul and Linda looked at each other, and then they looked at Emma. What the hell? Kevin gave them a half-shrug. He and Emma worked long hours together, so he was used to this sort of thing by now.

"That's pretty much the way it works in the human world, too," Paul quipped, and Linda elbowed him in the ribs, hard. "I'll have to remember to tell that one to Liz and Gail, when we have my stag-ette," she remarked, smiling. "I get the feeling they're going to like it a lot. Laurel, too."

"Stag-ette?" Kevin said uncertainly.

"Don't you worry about it," Linda said to him. "Women only." She gave her son a kiss on the cheek. "We'll let you know when we've made the wedding plans."

Then the couple was gone, and Kevin stared after them. So, his Mom was getting married again. Huh. But he'd meant what he'd said. He really was happy for them.

"Come here, Kevin, I need your help," Emma said.

Frank and Jody were sitting in the neurosurgeon's office, waiting nervously for the results of Jody's tests.

"If it's bad news - " Jody started to say, but Frank cut her off. "We'll deal with it," he told his wife. "We always have. But, let's not borrow trouble. Remember when you had your first set of mammograms? It turned out to be nothing."

"Yeah. Until it was something," Jody said bluntly. "I'm not trying to be a pessimist, Frank, just a realist."

"Well, if it's all the same to you, let's wait for the actual doctor to weigh in," Frank retorted, but he gave her hand a squeeze. Truthfully, he was worried, too. Jody hadn't been herself, and she'd told Frank that the technician who'd done her MRI had stammered when Jody had asked her about the results, then avoided her eyes. Jody used to interrogate suspects all the time, and she was a good "people reader". It wasn't going to be good news. She could just tell.

Dr. Uxbridge entered his office from the side door. He'd just been in the records room, receiving all the literature he could compile on Jody's condition from a few of his colleagues. Forewarned was forearmed, as the saying went. Not that education was going to help very much in this particular instance, but most patients who'd been diagnosed with brain tumors had a lot of questions.

The physician had sized up the couple when they had first come into his office. Out of the two of them, he could tell that it was the patient who was going to be a lot more pragmatic about the whole situation, while her husband was going to be the one who was in denial. It was such a shame. This was the part of his job that was the hardest to handle, for all of the parties involved.

"You have a secondary brain tumor," Dr. Uxbridge said to Jody. He wasn't a big believer in sugar-coating things. Beating around the bush wasn't going to help anyone. The sooner his patients received the diagnosis and understood what was happening, the sooner they could come to terms with it.

Predictably enough, Frank shifted in his chair. But, somewhat surprisingly, what he said was, "Is it malignant?"

"I see you've been doing some research," the doctor said. "That's good. But that's also why I'm giving you this literature to read. Google is a useful tool sometimes, but it's not something to be relied upon, as far as diagnoses go. For instance, you probably already know, then, that secondary tumors can be contracted from the radiation used in cancer therapies. That's likely what has happened here."

"Great," Jody said sarcastically. "The cure for one disease gives you another disease."

Dr. Uxbridge frowned. "I suppose that is one way of looking at it," he said to her.

Jody let out a long, frustrated breath. OK. OK. This really sucked, but sitting here shaking her fist at the ceiling wasn't going to change the situation, was it? "Well, at least I know now why I've been getting all these headaches. Sometimes my face or another part of my body feels numb, and once in a while, I vomit, for no apparent reason."

"Any memory loss?" the doctor asked her.

"Yeah, from time to time," Jody replied honestly. "That's been the worst part; the feeling that I'm losing my mental faculties."

"Well, you're not," Dr. Uxbridge assured her. "That's just one of the symptoms of the disease."

"OK, so, where do we go from here?" Frank asked as calmly as possible. "How do we treat it?"

"That will depend on a few factors," the doctor responded. "We'll have to determine its size, exact location, and whether it's metastasized. The MRI was helpful in that regard, but I think we need a better look. I'd like to do an exploratory, so we can see exactly what we're dealing with."

"Brain surgery?" Jody blurted out, and then she realized how stupid that was. What the hell else would he be talking about? She looked at Frank. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi, and Jody was sure she did, too. She swore softly, and Frank took her hand again.

"Do what you have to do," Jody told the surgeon.

Bobby had expertly sailed the Ex Marks The Spot back to its berth in the Dominican Republic. He could have just winked them all back there, but he didn't think it was right to just abandon the boat in open waters. For all they knew, the Captain had family, who might want to take possession of the craft. She was a solid vessel, Bobby'd told his friends, sustaining very little damage from the punishing storm.

But once the boat was returned and they'd gathered their belongings, Bobby winked them all back to the bunker. Dean stretched, and let out a cavernous yawn. "I'm gonna sleep for about a week," he announced. Then he pulled Gail to him for a brief hug and smiled over her shoulder at Cas. "Thanks for the best holiday I ever had, you guys." Then he thanked Bobby for coming to their aid and shuffled down the hall, still smiling.

"I'm gonna see if we have any ginger ale in the fridge. My stomach's still a little wonky," Sam said. He looked at the Angels. "Except for the tropical storm part, I agree with Dean. I'm sorry we didn't catch up with Vincent, though. That whole thing was a great vacation, but it also seemed like a big waste of time."

"I don't know, Sam," Bobby said enigmatically. "You might find out that's not exactly the case."

Sam's forehead wrinkled, but Bobby held up his hand. "We'll talk later. You and Dean need your rest. And these two have some business in Heaven."

Sam was still puzzled, but he shrugged now. Bobby was right; now that the adrenaline had worn off, Sam was bone tired. So he said goodbye to his friends, picked up his bag, and went down the hall to his room.

"What are you talking about, Bobby?" Cas asked him. "What business do we have in Heaven?"

"Leah wants to see you," Bobby told him. "Both of you. Gabriel, too. And Paul, for some reason."

"Did she say why?" Cas inquired.

Bobby scowled. "She wouldn't tell me a damn thing. Apparently, I'm not important enough to be in the loop. I reminded her I'm God now, and she just looked at me, and gave me one of these." He turned his nose up and made a "Hmph" sound, and Gail laughed. "Sorry, Bobby, but that was a pretty good imitation," she said. "Well, I guess we'd better go, then. We'll just leave our bags here for now. I doubt the guys'll mind. They'll probably sleep for most of the day." She nudged Cas. "And after we're done in Heaven, I want to check in with Frank and Jody. Find out what's been going on there."

A short while later, they were in Leah's room at the Seniors' Centre. She was in her usual spot, with a blanket on her lap. She smiled warmly when she saw Cas and Gail. "How is Earth?" she asked the couple.

"Hectic," Gail quipped. "Hot. Stormy. Oh, and evil."

"Yes, I remember," Leah said calmly, not batting an eyelash. "But that is why I needed to see you. Our Father has blessed me with a couple of visions that I need to share with you." She glanced at Gabriel, and then she looked at Paul. "You must be Paul, Raphael's son," Leah remarked.

He came forward. "Yes, Ma'am. It's good to meet you." Paul extended his hand in greeting.

Leah took it, smiling. "And, such manners. Unusual to find in someone so young."

"What would you like to share with us?" Cas asked the elderly Angel, pulling up a chair for Gail to sit in, then seating himself between her and Leah.

"The skull wasn't real," she told them. "Vincent had a vision, though, and it was a very informative one." She went on to tell the group about the Book of the Dead actually being in two parts, and the potential uses of the Pyramid Texts and the Coffin Texts. But, in order to get the Pyramid Texts, they were going to have to go back in time, to mid-24th Century, BC.

"Saqqara," Gabriel stated, much like he had in Vincent's vision.

Leah looked at him with bright eyes. "You know it?"

"Yes, of course we do," Cas confirmed.

"Well, do you wanna clue US in about it?" Paul said a trifle irritably, noticing that Gail looked as puzzled as he felt.

Leah looked at him sharply, so he added, "Respectfully."

"Saqqara was the ancient Royal burial ground in Egypt, back in the day. Think...the rich section of town," Gabriel told him. The Archangel waited for the inevitable caustic comment about it being reserved for Whites Only, or whatever opinion of Paul's the young black Angel wished to share. But, no such remark was forthcoming. Huh. Maybe Cas had been right when he'd said that Paul's stance on seeing racism everywhere had softened. Gabe hoped so. That just made it awkward for everyone. If they were all going to have to work together on this mission, Gabriel hoped they would be able to get along.

"Anyway, a guy named Unas, who was the last ruler of the Fifth Dynasty, was the first King to paint the walls in his pyramid with the Pyramid Texts. I'm not even gonna comment on his name, or the fact that apparently, they had so few words back then that they could only think to call the writing on the pyramid wall a 'Pyramid Text' - " Gabriel went on, but Cas interrupted him.

"Surprisingly few documents dating back to King Unas' reign have survived, considering the fact that he reigned for 30 years," Cas told Paul and Gail. He'd had the feeling that Gabriel had been about to go off on one of his tangents, and Cas wanted to focus on the subject at hand. After the failure they'd had to achieve any result in the Caribbean, this sounded like the most tangible lead they'd received in a very long time. "Perhaps that's why it hadn't occurred to me to check there for the Pyramid Texts."

"OK, so, I'm with you, so far," Paul said slowly. "Ancient King, pyramid, old writings. We've got to get the jump on those other guys, when it comes to getting these Books. But, why am I here?"

"Because King Unas had trade relations and close ties with Nubia," Leah replied matter-of-factly.

"Nubia?" Paul echoed, his eyes narrowing. "So I'm here because I'm black?"

"Yes, of course," Leah said calmly. "You have ancestors who are buried in that pyramid. It was customary for courtiers to be buried close to the King, perhaps to serve him in the Afterlife. Most of them would be interred in their own, smaller, mastaba tombs, close to the main pyramid. But, a few...select servants will be near his chamber, and his concubines, too, of course."

Gabriel winced, and Paul's jaw worked up and down a couple of times.

"What's a mastaba?" Gail asked suddenly, and Gabriel looked at her gratefully. "It means 'eternal house'," the Archangel said quickly. "Doesn't that sound nice?"

Paul scowled, but he merely cleared his throat and said, "Is that the only reason I'm here? Or is there something more?"

Leah smiled. "You are your father's son, all right. Not everyone saw eye to eye with Raphael, but there could be no doubt that he was an intelligent man."

"You knew my father?" Paul asked the elderly Angel, with some surprise. He had momentarily forgotten to be offended at the inference that the King had raided Nubia, enslaved Paul's ancestors, and kept his own private little harem for those times he felt like slicing off a piece of chocolate cake, in favour of taking the high road. That was, regrettably, the way things had been, back in the day. He would have to process how he felt about that whole situation at another time.

"Yes, of course I did, young man," Leah said, nodding. "We'll talk about that in future, if you wish. But for right now, I believe you were asking me why you must go on this mission."

"I'll bet you I know," Gabriel interjected. "If the four of us are going back that far, we're gonna need a little more juice. Even light beer is still beer. If we can tap that Archangel DNA in your veins, that'll give me and Cas the extra 'oomph' we need."

"Gabriel is right, despite the colourful language," Leah remarked, with a tone of disapproval. In her opinion, the Archangel should conduct himself with a little more decorum. "To transport four of you back that many years ago will require all the power that you can muster, plus an assist from the current occupant of the High Office."

Cas's lips threatened to twitch at that remark, and he made an effort to maintain a neutral expression. Bobby hadn't been kidding about Leah's indifference to their friend's Godly title.

Now, Gail was frowning. She was reading between the lines. She'd had a little experience with time travel, herself. "Maybe I should just stay behind, then," she said uncertainly. "I remember how much it tired you out to send just the two of us back for a few hours, that time," Gail said to Gabriel. "If you don't really need me for the mission, maybe I should just hang back, then."

"No, I want you with me," Cas insisted, taking her hand.

Gabriel was looking at the two of them with a curious expression now. "Yeah, you'd better come, Kitten," he said after a minute.

"I have something for you, my Lord," Leah said, putting her hand on Cas's arm. It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. He opened his mouth to tell her to call him Castiel, that he was no longer God, and then he closed it again and merely smiled at the woman.

Leah's hands went behind her neck and she undid the clasp of the necklace she was wearing underneath her sweater. Gail was used to it by now, but she still couldn't get over the fact that Leah wore both a sweater and a dressing gown in her room all year long, and she usually had her quilt or a blanket on her lap, too. Gail would be a puddle on the floor wearing all that, even though Heaven's temperature remained constant. Of course, Gail wasn't thousands upon thousands of years old, either.

"You may well need this," Leah told Cas, putting the necklace in his hand.

He looked down at it. "What an unusual pendant," Cas remarked.

"It's my Uriah's," she told him. "That is Bathshear's claw. When my husband slew him, he took it, as a souvenir. But I entrust it to you now, my Lord. You are attempting to enter a King's final resting place."

Cas nodded. "You believe we may encounter Anubis there."

Incongruously, Leah smiled. Probably because she was looking at Cas, Gail thought. But also, the older Angel was likely just pleased that Cas was one step ahead of her. Cas closed his hand around the necklace and stashed it in his inside jacket pocket. Then he patted the pocket closed. "Thank you, Leah," he said sincerely. "I will do my best to return it to you, if I can."

"Do what you have to do, Castiel," Leah said firmly, surprising Cas by referring to him by name. "I want the four of you to come back safely. That is the priority."

Gail's eyes were wide now. Anubis? She remembered the huge carvings that had animated themselves in the tomb in Egypt, where they had obtained the Earth Tablet. Those had only been statues of Anubis, and they had been intimidating enough. Were Cas and Leah saying that they might encounter the actual ancient Egyptian God in that pyramid? Holy moly. What might HE be like? No wonder Cas wanted her to come. They would probably need all the firepower they could get.

"And now, if the two of you will excuse us, I need to talk to these two alone," Leah said to Paul and Gabriel.

"That's okay; I'm going to go get my horn from where I stashed it, and then spend a bit of time with Liz before we go," Gabriel said, rising from his chair. "If you guys have anything you want to do before we go, I'd suggest you do it today. We'll all probably be out of it for about a week, when we get back." He grinned at Gail. "If you've missed sleeping in, here's your chance, Kitten. I hope Castiel doesn't snore."

Leah made her "Hmph" sound, and Gabriel took that as his cue to leave. She probably didn't want to even consider the possibility that her heartthrob might have even a teeny-tiny imperfection, such as snoring. "Come on, Paul," the Archangel said.

The young black Angel also rose. "Do me a favour?" he said to Cas. "Can the two of you come to my place, after? Linda and I have something we want to talk to you about."

Cas nodded. "Sure, Paul."

After the men left Leah's room, Cas regarded the older woman warily. "What else do you need to tell us?" he asked her.

"Our Father also advised me of a couple of other things, that I thought you might want to keep confidential," Leah told him.

"Such as?" Cas asked tersely.

"He said to tell you that Gabriel's blade must be recovered," Leah responded. "You will need it, in future. But this excursion to Saqqara is the priority. Depending upon what you find there, you may be able to eliminate at least one of your enemies. Pass me my quilt, dear."

Gail realized that Leah was talking to her. The quilt that the older Angel usually had sitting on her lap was folded up and sitting on top of a wooden chest in the far corner of the room. Maybe she hadn't wanted Paul and Gabriel to see it, for some reason. In any event, Gail got up and retrieved the quilt, gathering it up in her arms. She brought it back to where they'd been sitting, and Cas took the bundle from her to pass to Leah. But, an odd thing happened when he did: the quilt glowed a bright white, for an instant. Then it faded as Cas handed it gently to Leah, who smiled warmly. "Thank you, my Lord," she said softly.

Gail had been taken aback by the momentary glow, but then she realized that very little surprised her any more. Her head was still spinning with the concept of going back to 2500 BC to an ancient King's pyramid that might be protected by a giant, dog-faced Egyptian God. Plus, God the Father was apparently telling Leah to tell them that they had to find Gabriel's blade, and to make it a priority. That notion didn't surprise her all that much, because she knew first-hand how valuable blades belonging to higher-ranking Angels could be. In fact, her mind had already started working on that one. Hadn't Gabriel said he'd tossed it in the Mississippi River? But that had been years and years ago.

"Our Father gave me the vision I'd been waiting for," Leah was telling Cas now, and Gail gave her head a metaphorical shake. She'd better concentrate on the information at hand. Leah had the quilt unfolded on her lap, and she was pointing to one of the squares. "You are to kill Raguel with Samson's weapon. See?" she said to Cas.

His mouth dropped open. "The jawbone? But, where would I get that? It's not in the annex to the weapons room. I already checked. When I was in the High Office, I did an inventory, when I installed the alarm system."

Leah smiled. "That is because it is in a cave in Ramath Lehi. A Believer picked it up from where Samson threw it down, and took it back into the cave, concealing it in the Sacred Pit. When you go back to Saqqara, you must also travel to the Sea of Galilee, and retrieve the jawbone. Your three companions will assist you."

Cas was open-mouthed. "I'd thought that it was lost, forever. We all did."

"It will be, if you do not retrieve it on this journey," Leah said sharply. "As with the Pyramid of King Unas, the site no longer exists. But, have a care. You know that your party will not be the only ones looking for it. If one of you should fall, you will have to bear the sacrifice. But you are the only one who can retrieve the jawbone, my Lord, and you must not let it fall into the wrong hands."

Cas was nodding, looking at Leah intently now. Gail had lost them both a long time ago. The only thing she knew about Samson was that he was in the Bible. But, as she'd found out over the years, the stories in the Bible were not always true, or were revisionist, at best. But she was nervous now. This was obviously a lot bigger than she had originally thought.

But Leah was on a roll now. She put her hand on Cas's arm again. "Once you retrieve the jawbone and write down the Pyramid Texts, come back to Earth. You will use the jawbone to lure Raguel out of hiding and kill him with it. Then, you will have to find Gabriel's Angel blade, and find the Coffin Texts that will complete the Book of the Dead. But you must hurry, My Lord. Time is running out. Father told me that Vincent is not sitting idly by. He is very angry because his plan backfired, and he seeks revenge."

Gail's heart sank to her stomach. Great. Just great. Well, Vincent wasn't the only one who was mad. He had just led them on a merry chase, playing them for fools, wasting their time. The four of them had had fun down there, but obviously, fun time was over, now. Gail didn't like the sound of any of this. Anubis? Sacrifice? Vincent, seeking revenge? Suddenly, that tropical storm they had just been through was looking pretty good to her.

"Thank you for your service," Cas said to Leah, taking her hands in his. He had done it on impulse, and the older Angel looked startled. Cas realized that his gesture had been very human. But Leah was a long-serving Angel, and as such, his action would seem very forward to her. He hoped he hadn't offended her.

But then, Leah's face lit up, and she gave his hands a brief, gentle squeeze before releasing them. "I'm very happy to help, my Lord," she responded softly. "Now, I see that Father has left me here for a reason. I get lonely sometimes, without Uriah, or our son Joachem. They have gone on, and I have been left here, by myself. Originally, I thought that I was being punished for not fixing up our finest room for that poor, bedraggled couple that night, all those years ago. Instead, we put them in the stable, like common farm animals..." Suddenly, the old woman began to cry, and Cas took her hands again.

"Do not blame yourself for that," he said softly. "Promise me, please. No one blames you, Leah. Father does not blame you."

Leah sniffled back the tears. "Thank you, my Lord. Thank you. That means so much to me. Anything I can do to be of service to you, I will gladly do."

"You've already helped us, more than you know," Cas told her. "Is there anything else you would like to say, before we take our leave?"

"No, my Lord - I mean, Castiel," Leah stammered. "Please be careful, and come back to us safely." Then she looked at Gail. "Both of you."

Oh, good, Gail thought. Leah remembered that she was in the room, too. But then, she decided that was harsh, and unfair. She did feel badly for the older woman, beating herself up for the events of that night, so long ago. "Wasn't that your husband's decision?" she blurted out.

"I beg your pardon, dear?" Leah asked her, puzzled.

"I'm sorry, but when we learned that story as kids, we were always told that it was the innkeeper who told them that there was no room at the inn," Gail said hesitantly. "And from everything that I've seen and experienced, back then, the husband was the boss. So, why would you be punished for something that wasn't UP to you?"

Leah was silent for a moment, and then she smiled sadly. "You are a darling girl, and I am very glad that Castiel chose you for his wife. But you are a product of your time, Gail, just as I am a product of mine. When you go back, you will gain a better understanding," she said.

They said their goodbyes, thanking the woman again. Once they were out of the Seniors' Centre, Cas took Gail's hand. "I have to talk to you," he said to her, tight-lipped.

He winked them over to her office. "I wanted to talk to you alone, before we speak to the others," Cas said in a grave tone.

She looked at him warily. "Are you mad because I said that, Cas?"

"What? No," he responded quickly. "No. But I do need to prepare you for what we may be facing."

"Good, because I have about a million questions," she told him. "The Egyptian stuff, I get, mainly. We've had a bit of experience with that kind of thing before." She smiled briefly. "And at least, you can acknowledge that you know me, this time." Then her smile faded. "But...Anubis? Was she talking about the real deal? The ten-foot guy with the head of a dog? That guy?"

Cas sighed. "I'm afraid so. But now that I have Bathshear's claw, I should be able to kill Anubis. However, I've been thinking about something else: if Anubis is there, Ammit may be, too."

Gail looked at him, wide-eyed. "What?"

"Anubis is Ammit's brother," Cas replied matter-of-factly. "If we kill him, she should show up, to take revenge. And if she does, I can kill her too, thereby eliminating her as a threat in our present timeline."

"Cas! That's fantastic!" Gail enthused. But then, she paused. "What's the catch?"

He scooped up her hands in his. "We'll all be mortal, when we go back. We will have no special powers whatsoever. Just our intelligence, Gabriel's and my experience, and our combined fighting skills. But if any of us die there, we will never have existed, in this day and age," Cas told her, looking into her eyes. "I realize I was selfish in saying that I wanted you with me. That was why I wanted to talk to you now. If you wish to opt out of the mission, please tell me so. Now that you know the true risk, I do not want to force you to go."

"Are you kidding? Do you think I would just stay here, twiddling my thumbs, when you need my help? There's no way, Cas. Of course I'm going with you." Gail raised her eyebrow. "Besides, there's no way I'm letting you around all those beautiful, scantily-clad Egyptian women, with only Gabriel as a chaperone," she joked.

Cas smiled thinly, appreciating her attempt at levity. Then he took her in his arms. "You know that I'll protect you, down to my last breath," he said to his wife, and now, her heart was in her throat. They could die. They could actually die, if they went back there. And if they did, that would be it for them. No second chances, no future incarnations. In the past, when she and Cas had been those other people, God had always allowed them to come back; to continue on with their respective existences, as if putting down a book for a short time and then picking it back up to continue reading. But Cas was saying that wouldn't be the case, here. And really, why should it be? They had already received more than their share of do-overs. But at least if they were to die there, they would die together. Gail suspected that might be why Cas wanted her with him, and she didn't mind. If there was anything that she had learned from her ordeal after Cas had died on that plain in Egypt, it was that she was simply not interested in a life that didn't have Cas in it. But what was it about Egypt, anyway? What had Gail ever done to the Egyptians?

But that particular thought had led her to another one. "Can you really kill Raguel with that thingie of Samson's?" Gail asked her husband, intrigued.

His lips twitched. "If we can locate it, and if it is the genuine article, then yes, I can," he told her, kissing her gently on the forehead. "I promise I will answer more of your questions later if I'm able to, but right now, I think we should go see Paul, as we promised to do. Then we will squeeze in a brief visit with our Earth family, and then we will prepare to go. All right, my love?"

"OK, Cas." Gail stretched up to kiss him on the lips. "I love you so much, sweetie. And I'm glad we'll be doing this together."

"Me, too," Cas said, nodding. He kissed her on the mouth, gave her a gentle squeeze, and then took her hand. "Let's go."

GABRIEL

The Archangel and his Angel girlfriend were getting dressed, after having made love in her apartment in Heaven. Liz's residence wasn't very fancy, and it wasn't very big, because between all of the volunteer work she did in Heaven and her occasional babysitting stint on Earth, she really wasn't there all that much. But since taking up with Gabriel, she had shyly asked Cas for a bigger, softer bed when Cas had been God, and she and Gail had bought some clothes on Earth to supplement Liz's wardrobe. Gail's friend had been a very low-maintenance, Earth-mother type of dresser when she'd been a human, but now, she was trying to look a little more alluring. Liz wasn't sure how much of Gabriel's storied past was true and how much was embellishment, but she thought it couldn't hurt to try to look a little less like Prudence Pureheart, and a little more like a woman the Archangel could have some fun with. Gabriel had been thrust into the hero's role more and more these days, but Liz knew that he still had a healthy dose of the Trickster in him. And who the hell wanted to come home to a schoolmarm every night, anyway?

But he wouldn't be coming home to her for a while. As soon as Gabe had come over, he had told her about the upcoming mission. But before he'd had the chance to supply her with too many details, Liz had kissed him, and one thing had led to another.

So now they were dressed again, and they sat down on the living room couch as Gabriel explained what and where Saqqara was, and what they were supposed to do there. It would be him, Cas, Gail and Paul going.

Gabriel couldn't help but smirk as he described to Liz the matter-of-fact way that Leah had told Paul about his ancestors' roles in the King's life.

"You should have seen his face," Gabe told his girlfriend. "I have to hand it to him, though. He kept whatever opinions he probably had about it to himself. But, I don't think we've heard the end of it. I can't wait for the diatribe we're gonna hear when we get there and he has to see all of his relatives as slaves, and, uh...concubines."

"And I don't imagine Gail's going to be too thrilled about the way that women in general will be treated, either," Liz mused.

Gabe looked startled. Oh, crap. He hadn't even thought about that. He smiled weakly. "Maybe I should tell Cas to get another Archangel," he joked. "I'm starting to feel a little feverish."

Liz giggled. "Well, I think they both have a point," she said, taking Gabriel's hands in hers. "You and Cas are looking at things from an Exalted point of view, Gabe."

He waggled an eyebrow at her. "I like it when you call me 'Exalted'," he quipped. "It turns me on."

Liz smiled, but she had a serious point to make now, and she wanted to make it. "You know, you have a unique opportunity here," she told the Archangel. "Since Cas is based on Earth now, and you're here, you could be a really good mentor for Paul."

Gabriel almost looked behind him. "Me? A mentor?" he said doubtfully.

Liz nodded. "Sure." Then she frowned. "How dangerous is this mission likely to be?"

Gabriel sighed. He'd been hoping she wasn't going to ask him a question like that. But he could never lie to Liz. She had been messed around enough.

"Pretty dangerous," he admitted. "As soon as we cross over, we'll be mortals. And, remember I told you about Hakeem? I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have been too happy when he didn't get his hands on me, on our raid to Hell. Well, back then was when Cas and I first made his acquaintance. But the good news is, he'll be human, too. So I like my odds." Then Gabriel smirked again. "It's Cas you should be worried about. I'll bet you a bazillion dollars he hasn't told Gail about Letitia."

"Letitia?" Liz asked him curiously. "Who's that?"

"Athena's best friend," he responded. Gabe had come clean to Liz about many things from his past, and he hadn't minded telling her about Thena, because he came off looking pretty good at the end. There were some other little escapades that he wasn't quite so eager to tell her about, but Gabe rationalized to himself that since they were both eternal beings, he had plenty of time in their relationship to start disappointing her.

"Athena? The slave girl?" Liz inquired. Gabe had told her everything about his relationship with Thena, and she had been fine with it. Gabe was an ancient being, underneath the vessel he wore. Of course he'd had relationships with women before. But, this was the first time he had mentioned anything about Cas. Now, her eyes narrowed. "What ABOUT Letitia?"

"She liked Cas," Gabe replied, and now his lips were twitching furiously. "A LOT. Every time Thena would steal a few minutes together, Cas would keep a lookout. But Letitia tried her best to distract him. He assured me that nothing ever happened, but truthfully, I didn't really care, at the time. As long as he was covering my butt, I didn't see why he shouldn't get a little...well, get a little. But, he never did. I always thought it was because he couldn't take the stick out of his butt long enough to enjoy life. Let's face it; we're men. We pretty much had carte blanche, before Womens' Liberation was established."

"Yes, I know," Liz said dryly. "We've been going over a lot of history books and doing research on Google to figure out what to teach the kids in school. I've seen and read things that would make Gail rip her hair out by the roots."

Gabe smirked again. "Well, I guess I need to make sure that she doesn't rip LETITIA'S hair out by the roots. I mean, I like a good girl fight as much as the next red-blooded guy, but my little Kitten'll destroy her."

Liz giggled again. "If this Letitia tries anything with Cas, you should probably let her. And, at the risk of sounding like the old ball and chain, a very large part of me feels like warning you that I might be tempted to emulate her, if you do more than reminisce with Thena, while you're there."

Gabe's smirk dissolved into a warm smile. He loved it when Liz showed that she could stick up for herself. She might seem like a Saint sometimes, but she sure as hell wasn't a martyr. "Yes, Ma'am," he said softly. Then she was kissing him again, and he was kissing her back, and because Gabriel's mouth was being used for such a good cause, he somehow, sort of, forgot to tell her that he may or may not be coming back.

PAUL

After they left the Seniors' Centre, Paul and Gabriel had parted ways. They had both wanted to spend some time with their significant others before departing on the mission.

Paul was still residing with Henri in their little house, but that status would change, of course, once he and Linda got married. Paul and Linda had shared their happy news with the older Angel right after they'd gone to see Kevin, but they hadn't had the chance to tell Cas and Gail yet. That was why Paul had asked them to stop by.

Henri and Linda were chatting companionably when Paul got there. He filled them in on the mission, as far as he understood it. His friend and his fiancee were amazed; Henri, especially so. Because he'd had very little experience with the types of missions that Cas had been on, save for Paris, Henri had had no idea that such a thing was possible. Time travel? Sounded like Jules Verne or Isaac Asimov to him, not real life.

Now that Paul was with other people of colour, he felt free to vent about the fact that his ancestors had been servants to the King. "And now they want me to go in there, and bow and scrape? Maybe Castiel or Gabriel will make me call them 'Massa'. It's a good thing I don't have a sister, or she'd probably be standing out in the hot Egyptian sun, turning tricks for a nickel. I wonder if Gabriel owns a leopard-skin coat, and platform boots with goldfish in the heels."

Henri frowned, but for the moment, he let the younger Angel rant. There wasn't always a need to rebuke Paul, because Paul wasn't always wrong. Even though Henri was a lot less vociferous about these kinds of things, he was well aware of the history of his people. The change had allegedly been coming for hundreds and hundreds of years now, but sometimes, it felt like it was taking an awful damn long time to get here.

Nor could Linda say much, either. She was picturing her own ancestors in those same types of circumstances. Asian women knew a thing or two about being subjugated, up to and including the present generation. That was a very big part of why Linda had ended up being married to Kevin's father.

Paul sighed now. "But, I'm just gonna have to try to suck it up. What we're going there to do is too important to screw around with." His eyes narrowed. "I just wish I knew what Castiel and Gabriel aren't telling me. I get the feeling they haven't even told Gail everything about this mission. But, Cas and Gail are supposed to be coming here after they're done talking to the old lady, so, I'll wait and see."

Linda and Henri exchanged glances. Were the senior Angels holding something back? "Unfortunately, that wouldn't surprise me too much," Paul's fiancee said soberly. "I think very highly of those guys, but they can be like that, sometimes. Especially Cas. It must be his soldier training, from way back."

"Well, we'll just ask him, when he gets here," Henri said sensibly. "In the meantime, there's something I wanted to give the both of you, while we have a moment." He reached into the pocket of the cardigan sweater he was wearing and pulled out a small box, smiling at the couple. "Young Paul here told me he didn't have an engagement ring for you, Linda. After I finished giving him the business about that, I told him that, with your agreement, I had his back." He opened the box to reveal a simple ring with a modest diamond. "It's not too opulent, but it was my mother's," Henri told them. "When I told my grandparents about the two of you, my Grand'mere gave it to me, to give to you. She said it would be an honour to our family if you would wear it, Linda. It represents hope to us."

Linda was touched. "I would be proud to wear it, Henri. It would be MY honour. But, how about your mother? Wouldn't she like to keep it?"

Henri frowned momentarily. "That's a story for a much less happy occasion, cheri," he said, but his voice was calm. The timing was all wrong for that particular tale right now. He extended the box to Paul, who took the ring out of it, facing Linda.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked him.

"What? What do you mean? I was going to put the ring on your finger," Paul said, puzzled.

Henri was amused. "I think she wants you to take a knee, son. You young folks are used to doing that these days, aren't you? Proposals, football games, protests..."

Paul eyed the older Angel with interest. "I didn't know you were keeping up with current events on Earth, Pops."

"I always pay attention," Henri said mildly. "Just because I'm in Heaven, that don't mean the world has stopped turning. I did my part when it came to The Struggle. Now, I'm looking to see what those who have picked up the baton are doing with it." There was a bit more to it than that, too. Although, again, Henri wasn't sure he wanted to bring up that particular subject during what was supposed to be a very romantic moment for the couple.

"I was just kidding," Linda said to Paul now. "Here." She put her hand out, and he slid the engagement ring on her finger. She admired it for a moment, then looked at Henri. "It's lovely. You'll have to thank your Grandmother for us. Better still, I'd love to meet your grandparents, sometime. Maybe after Paul gets back, we can set something up. Now, you may want to avert your eyes, 'cause we're going to make out for a minute."

There was a sound of chimes, and Henri grinned. "Ahh. Saved by the proverbial bell." He rose to answer the door as Linda and Paul laughed.

"Come on in," Henri said to Cas and Gail. "How's Earth treating you?"

"I think it's neat that you have a doorbell," Gail told him, smiling. "I've always said the bunker could use one of those." She put her hand on his arm. "But, to answer your question, it's been never a dull moment, that's for sure. If we ever get a second to relax, I think we should start writing our memoirs."

They walked into the living room area, and Gail said, "Hey, Linda. What's new?"

Linda held out her hand, and Cas and Gail smiled at the couple, then at each other. Gail moved forward to hug Linda, as Cas extended his hand to Paul for a shake. Then they switched places, exchanging more hugs.

"Sit down, please," Henri said to Cas and Gail. "It's good to have you in our home."

Cas was frowning now. He was very happy for Linda and Paul, but now, he felt the pressure. He cleared his throat. "I need to tell you a few more things about this mission, Paul. I want you to have the full picture before you agree to go. But I want you to be willing to go, not to feel forced into it." Cas looked at Linda, thinking about the botched assassination attempt in Hell. "And I want you to be fully cognizant of the dangers, before you agree. If you and Linda need to talk about it after our conversation, go ahead. We have to go down to Earth briefly and check in with Gail's brother, and then we'll be back here."

"Are you really going back to 2500 BC?" Henri asked curiously.

"Yes, we are," Cas said calmly, nodding.

"Huh," Henri commented, smiling wryly. "So, science fiction isn't fiction, eh?"

"I suppose not; not in this instance," Cas acknowledged, inclining his head.

"Then let me ask you something," Henri said. "If you're able to go back in time, why wouldn't you just go back and kill Hitler?"

Cas nodded. "That is a question that has come up repeatedly. And while it's understandable that you should ask, I have to tell you that you must cease, immediately."

Henri's forehead wrinkled. "Say what, now?"

"Was what I said in any way unclear?" Cas said sharply.

Gail looked at her husband, startled by his sudden change in tone.

"No, but..." Now, Henri looked uncertain. So did Linda and Paul.

Cas looked at Paul now. "If you elect to go on this mission, you need to know that you will be mortal, once we get there. So will we all be. Also, we will probably face at least one ancient Egyptian God at the pyramid. There is also one more mission we must undertake that may put us in harm's way, if Crowley gets wind of it. We will have to travel by human means to an area near the Sea of Galilee and try to collect a Biblical weapon that he has coveted for aeons."

Suddenly, Cas stood from his chair. "Discuss it, and when you're ready to give me your answer, go to Gabriel. Gail and I will be there shortly." He extended his hand to Gail to take.

She was taken aback. What the hell? But then she stood slowly, looking sheepishly at their friends. "Congratulations again," she said to the newly engaged couple. Then she looked at Henri. Gail had no idea what to say to him that might explain the sudden change in Cas's tone, because she didn't understand it herself.

Then everything went black as Cas grabbed her hand, and an instant later, they were standing in the laneway beside Frank's house. There was a blind spot there, where his neighbours couldn't see.

"Do not ask me, please," Cas said to his wife, holding up his hand. "I don't wish to discuss it right now."

He strode towards the front porch to knock on the door of the house, and because he still had a hold of her hand, Gail had no choice but to hurry to keep up with him. She was completely bewildered now.

But before she even had the chance to open her mouth to ask him what the hell was going on with him, Frank answered the door.

VIGNETTE - THAT TOM JONES SONG

Cas had wrapped up his brief explanation of the main crux of the mission, which was to get to the King's Pyramid, and write down the symbols for the Pyramid Texts. Then they would have half of the information they needed to find the Book of the Dead.

Sam and Dean were astounded, and then amused. "So, the skull was a fake?" Dean said, smirking widely. "That. Is. Awesome." He and Sam looked at each other. Even though they should be really mad about having done all of that for nothing, the brothers had pretty much had a great time in the Caribbean. And finding out that Vincent had gotten screwed out of the real skull was just the icing on the cake.

They were all sitting in the living room of the house. Cas had asked Bobby to bring the Winchesters to Frank and Jody's place so that he and Gail could tell them all what was going on. Rob and Eric were there too, and Angela was sitting on the floor, playing with some foam blocks that had letters printed on their sides. She was just picking them up and putting them down, playing idly, but Gail had teased her brother that she expected to see a coherent sentence by the time she and Cas left the house.

Gail was still a little freaked out by that whole thing at Paul and Henri's place, but Cas appeared calm once again, and it was hardly the right time to bring it up now. But she noticed that Cas was soft-pedalling the mission, giving them only the barest minimum of details. That was probably just as well.

"Also, we will have to retrieve a Biblical weapon that, if found, has the potential to - " Cas started to say, and then he looked at little Angela. " - vanquish Raguel," he finished.

Frank grinned. "Thanks for that, Cas. Hopefully, it'll be a little while yet till Angela has to learn that particular four-letter word." He was talking about the word "kill", of course. "Although, for Dean's sake, you might wanna avoid words of more than one syllable," Frank added slyly.

Dean made a face. He got up from his chair and crouched by Angela's blocks. He picked up two of them and stood, turning them around in his hands, showing Frank the letters: F and U. As everyone laughed, Dean put the blocks back down on the floor, chucked Angela under the chin, and returned to his chair.

"That's great, Cas," Sam enthused, picking up the thread of the conversation. "Sounds like it'll be a productive trip. I wish we could come with you and help."

"What's the Biblical weapon?" Jody asked, curious.

Cas looked at her. "It's the legendary jawbone."

"The jawbone of an ass?" Sam blurted out. Then he looked at Jody apologetically. "I'm not swearing, it's - "

"Yeah, I know, Sam," Jody said, her lips twitching. She was having a good day today. She and Frank had made a pact not to tell anybody about her upcoming exploratory surgery. Actually, now was the best time for all of this to be happening. Bobby had advised that Cas and Gail would probably be exhausted and out of commission for about a week after having travelled that far back in time, and because they would have to get around the human way while they were there, it was not clear how long they'd be gone. The longer they were there, the more worn out they would be. And Sam and Dean were eager to get back out on the road after their vacation, so Frank had asked the brothers to take Rob and Eric with them for some practical Hunting experience, and they'd agreed. Then Bobby was going to ask Liz to babysit Angela, freeing Frank and Jody up to go to the hospital. But they hadn't told Bobby that was where they were going, of course. They had led him to believe that they were planning a romantic getaway, knowing that he wouldn't be too inquisitive about the subject. Until there was something to report about Jody and her condition, the couple were keeping their mouths shut about it.

"So, that story from the Bible is really true?" Bobby inquired of Cas.

Gail gave them all an embarrassed look now. "At the risk of sounding like a bad Angel, I'm not really sure I know the story," she admitted. "Was he the really strong guy with the long hair?"

"Yes," Cas confirmed, nodding. "He slew the entire Philistine army with the jawbone. It's a very powerful weapon."

"Actually, Cas, I think it's time for Angela's nap, now," Frank said hastily. "Can you give me a second to put her down? I want to hear this, but I'm afraid it might be a little...uh, smite-y for young ears." Gail's brother picked Angela up. "Say goodnight to everybody," he said to his daughter, waving her little arm at them. Then he looked down at the blocks. "Oh, look. The complete works of Shakespeare."

Gail made a face as Frank took the toddler out of the room. If they needed the jawbone of an ass, all they had to do was operate on her brother, she thought.

A few minutes later, Frank was back, and Dean said, "So: Samson. Long hair. Good fighter. Are we sure that wasn't my brother, in a past life? Maybe that would explain why Sammy refuses to get a haircut. Like, ever."

"See, Dean? There's a reason for that," Sam joked, playing along. "Obviously, that's where my strength lies."

"The only strong thing about you is your smell, when you forget to take a shower," Dean retorted.

"Hey, if the past tense of 'slay' is 'slew', then why isn't the present tense 'slaw'?" Rob joined in.

"If everyone is quite finished, I'll relate an abbreviated account of Samson's story," Cas said, sounding like the Angel who'd had that proverbial stick up his rear end all those years. A few of them exchanged glances, and Gail let out a frustrated breath. Obviously, whatever that had been at Henri's place was still bothering Cas. What had that been?

But Gail had better concentrate now. What Cas was talking about concerned her too, since she would be accompanying him back to the past.

"Samson's story is a terrible one, on both sides of the equasion," Cas began. "Even though the events are factual, the tale mainly serves as a cautionary one, maybe the ultimate one, against seeking vengeance." He sighed. "I admit now that I should probably have re-read it before I led that ill-fated excursion into Hell. I clearly could have used a refresher on that lesson." There was silence for a moment. No more jokes were made, at least not for the time being. That was still a very painful memory for everyone.

Cas went on: "Samson's betrothed was a Philistine, and the Philistines were enemies of his people. At his wedding feast, Samson told a riddle to the 30 groomsmen, who were all Philistines. But they became infuriated by the riddle because they could not solve it, and they told Samson's new wife that they would burn her and her father's house down to the ground, if she wouldn't tell them the answer."

Gail gasped, and Cas glanced briefly at her with a rueful expression on his face. Of course. His poor darling had no idea how brutal and bloody things had been back then. By comparison, life was civilized now, despite intolerance, and hatred, and acts of terrorism. Gail had had her baptism of fire, but she still had a way to go before she truly understood Cas's past. It was a past that had helped to shape him into the type of flawed individual he was today. But, he was trying. With the love of his wife and their family, he was really trying not to be that individual. Cas knew that Gail was extremely confused about the reaction he'd had to Henri's innocent question about Hitler and time travel, and he couldn't blame her. Not one bit. He supposed that he would have to come clean with her about it at some point. But certainly not now. They were about to embark upon a very serious and potentially deadly mission, and they couldn't afford the types of distractions that conversation would produce.

"So she went crying to Samson," Cas continued, "and he relented, telling her the solution, which she then related to the groomsmen. Then they provided Samson with the correct answer, but he was furious about how they had obtained it. So he went into town and killed 30 Philistines to get their garments. That was the bet that he'd made with the groomsmen; that he would provide them with the clothing, if they guessed the answer to the riddle."

"Aww, geez," Frank commented.

Cas gave him a brief nod. "So then, in retaliation, his new bride's family took her and gave her to another man, offering to give Samson one of the younger sisters, in her stead." Bobby winced, and Gail's and Jody's lips pursed up tight, but they let Cas go on. "Then, Samson went out and burned all of her family's crops. The Philistines soon discerned that he had been responsible, so then they burned Samson's wife and her father, in retribution. Then Samson killed more Philistines in revenge for that act, and then he fled, hiding in a cave. An army of Philistines came to get him and bring him to the town to face his punishment, but Samson slew them all with the jawbone of a dead ass he'd found on the ground outside of the cave. Legend has it that God touched the bone, and imbued it with the strength of a hundred thousand men."

They all sat there, stunned. What a horrible story. What an astonishingly horrible, brutally violent story. Cas had sure been right about it being the last word in revenge.

To break the tension, Jody looked at Frank, Dean, and Sam. "So, which one of you wants to volunteer your jawbone for the job?" She and Bobby high-fived smartly, as Gail shook her head. She'd made a great quip to herself earlier on the subject, but she hadn't said it out loud. Dammit! Oh, well. She could let Jody have this one. She wondered if whatever the problem that had been between Frank and Jody had been resolved. Her brother and sister-in-law looked like they were perfectly fine now. Maybe it had just been menopause, after all. Or maybe it had just been that blip on the screen that many couples had, from time to time.

"I couldn't have said that better, myself," Bobby told Jody approvingly.

"Hey! What did WE do?" Dean objected.

Cas had allowed himself a brief, tight smile, but now he continued with his tale: "Having escaped the army, Samson travelled to Gaza, killed some more of his enemies, and then fell in love with Delilah."

"'Why, oh why, Delilah'," Bobby sang in a lilt that was slightly off-key. Everybody looked at him. "What?" he said. "That's that Tom Jones song."

Cas sighed again. "At any rate, the Philistines bribed Delilah to find out the source of his great strength. Samson didn't want to tell her at first, but then eventually, she wore him down, and he did tell her. He claimed that his long hair was the source. So, she...uh...wooed him to sleep. Then she had his hair shaven, and when Samson woke up, the Philistines had him captive. They blinded him by gouging out his eyes, and then they made him a slave. Eventually, they called thousands and thousands of people to come to a heathen temple in town to watch Samson in his humiliation. He lifted up his face and called upon the Lord to give him the strength to pull the pillars down that he was chained to, but when he did, he killed himself, and thousands of other people, in the process." Cas looked thoughtful. "Our Father makes a very sharp point sometimes, when He decides to make a point."

They all sat in shocked silence for another few moments, and then Sam said, "Wow. That must be why the consideration of whether or not to use nuclear weapons is sometimes referred to as the 'Samson Option'."

"That's very astute, Sam," Cas said calmly. He was looking at their stricken faces, thinking that perhaps he shouldn't have been quite so candid in his recounting of the story. But everyone here was an adult, and experienced in matters of death, and blood. And, unlike some of the other Biblical legends, the story he had just told them was absolutely, one hundred percent true.

"So, you guys are supposed to go get that jawbone?" Eric asked in a hushed tone.

"That's right," Cas confirmed. "Leah told us that Father told her it is concealed in that cave, in a Sacred Pit. If that is the case, we will retrieve it, when we go back. The site is no more these days, and King Unas's pyramid has been destroyed, as well. That's why we have to go back to that time. But, because we are going back so many years, the trip will take its toll on all of us. That is why we came to see you now. You may not see or hear from us for a while."

Frank and Jody exchanged brief glances, and then Frank said, "You guys are always going somewhere interesting. The Caribbean, thousands of years in the past..."

"That ballgame you guys went to down there sounded like a lot of fun," Rob interjected.

"And Uncle Dean told us about your trying to ride a horse, Aunt Gail," Eric said, smirking.

Gail glared at Dean. "Uncle Dean is a snitch. YOU try riding a full-grown horse when you're my height. It's not that easy, you know."

"Won't you have to ride a horse when you go back in time?" Sam asked, logically enough. "I know an Impala's an animal, but it's not like you're gonna be driving one," he added, grinning.

Aww, crap. Gail hadn't even thought of that. And then, Jody made it worse: "And won't you be wearing a long skirt, or a dress?" she asked her sister-in-law. "I doubt you'll see any women wearing pants, not back then. Can you ride side-saddle?"

Gail's heart sank, but Cas looked at her. "You can ride with me," he told her. "Don't be concerned, my love."

She smiled at her husband. Now, she was picturing it. Cas's arms around her, holding the reins, keeping the horse nice and calm. Her, nestled against him, and Cas talking in her ear, pointing out the sights. The sun going down, providing them with a spectacular sunset. It would be so romantic. Just like the movies.

"Sam and Dean are taking these two yahoos out on the road with them," Frank said, gesturing to Rob and Eric. "They need a bit more seasoning."

"They've been doing pretty well on their own, but there's still a lot they have to learn," Jody added.

"Don't you love it when they talk about you as if you're not even in the room?" Eric groused to Rob, and Gail smiled. She'd experienced that same phenomenon herself, all too many times.

"Hey, are you kidding?" Sam said to the young men. "You're a psychic, Rob, and Eric, you can teleport. Maybe we should be asking you guys for your help. Those skills will come in handy."

"Why aren't you and Jody taking them?" Dean asked Frank.

"I'll be running for city council soon, Jody's got her charity work, and we've got a toddler at home," Frank shot back. "You do the math." He and Jody exchanged another quick glance. Valid excuses, to be sure. Hopefully, those were the only things that they would have to be concerned with, going forward. But that would all depend on what Dr. Uxbridge found, when he opened up Jody's skull to have a look. Frank was trying to keep that particularly horrifying visual out of his head. He'd faced down monsters of just about every kind and killed most of them in spectacularly gory fashion, but when it came to his own wife, Frank had to take a pass on the mere notion of them opening up her cranium. He could only imagine how she must be feeling.

"We'd better go now," Cas announced, and he and Gail rose from the loveseat. Just as they had their regular seats at the bunker, whenever they came to Jody and Frank's house, the loveseat was where they liked to sit.

Hugs and kisses were exchanged, with the Angels telling the Hunters to be careful out there, and vice versa. "And you be careful with local politics," Gail quipped, poking her brother in the stomach. "That might be the most dangerous thing you've ever done."

Frank laughed dutifully, but he was thinking about Jody again. No; it was his wife who was going to be in the most danger, in the morning. For a moment, he almost blurted out their secret. But Jody was right; it made no sense to panic anybody now, not until they found out exactly what they were dealing with.

They all went their separate ways after that, to embark on their individual missions. Some would be more successful than others.

DANGER ZONE

THEN

The Angels had gathered in Bobby's office a short while later. All four of them were there. Gabe had made a few nervous jokes to Liz, but in the end, there was no way he was missing this. Besides, there was also no way they could make a trip of this magnitude without his considerable power supply.

Paul had been a little taken aback by Cas's sudden shift of mood at his and Henri's place earlier, but he'd decided to shrug it off, for the time being. The young black Angel had to make sure he had his head on right before embarking on the mission. Regardless of the reason for his inclusion, this was Paul's first opportunity to serve on the right side of the equasion, and he aimed to do it right.

The four of them all raised the Angel blades they were armed with, touching the tips together. After activating it, Gabriel used his free hand to put his horn in Bobby's hands. "Take good care of that for me, your Lordship," the Archangel said to him.

"If you don't have it with you, how are you gonna get back?" Bobby asked him.

"I'll create a Portal, for when we get there," Gabe replied. "I'll stick it in a little out-of-the-way place I know of. Now, I don't know how long we'll be gone, 'cause we have to get around the human way, once we get there. The Portal should be good for about a month, and then it'll dissipate."

"Well then, you'd better get your rears in gear," Bobby said matter-of-factly. "Before you go, I just wanna make sure: nobody's got any cell phones, or watches, or anything modern on them, right?"

Gail smiled wryly. "That would be one of the oldest cliches in the book, wouldn't it?" she joked. Then she glanced down at herself. "But, we're not exactly dressed in period garb, are we?"

"You leave that up to me, Kitten," Gabriel said confidently. "You're in my ballpark, now." He smirked at Cas. He couldn't help himself. "I'll try to resist the urge to dress your wife too traditionally."

Cas pressed his lips together, but before he had the chance to say anything, and before Gail had the chance to ask what the hell he'd meant by that, Bobby held the horn over their heads with one hand, and touched it to their blades. Gabriel didn't have his blade, of course, which would mean a considerable loss of juice. But they had his horn, the blades of two Original Angels, and God's muscle. Plus, Bobby had gone into the annex in the weapons room and brought out Raphael's blade, presenting it to an astonished Paul. With all of that power, Gabe was fairly confident that they would be just fine.

They all shut their eyes, because Gabriel had advised that the light would be blinding. It took a couple of minutes, but the glow built and built, until there was a huge flash of white and purple, like a localized lightning strike.

Then Bobby heard a loud clatter, and when the light had faded enough for him to open his eyes, he saw to his dismay that the four Angel blades had fallen to the office floor. The Angels had apparently accomplished their time travel, but they would be going unarmed.

"Dammit!" Gabriel cursed.

All four of them suddenly appeared in what passed for the town proper, on a dusty road in the middle of a bustling marketplace.

Not only had they appeared in the wrong place, but they were empty-handed. Cas stared balefully at Gabriel. "We appear to be missing something very important," he said to his Brother.

Great. Just great, Paul thought, annoyed. They'd made this big show of presenting him with his dad's blade, and now, he didn't even have it.

Gabriel was looking at his travel companions sheepishly. "Anybody have their blade?" he asked hopefully.

Gail glanced down at herself, and then she glared at him. "Now, where on Earth would I be keeping a blade?" she asked him angrily. "Look at me!" She was dressed in what could only be described as a glorified bra, and a long but extremely diaphanous skirt.

Gabriel was trying to look innocent, but now Castiel was glaring at him, too. "You said - " Cas started to say, but Gabe raised his hands in supplication. "I only said I was going to try," the Archangel said, his lips twitching furiously.

Gail was feeling really self-conscious now. It was the tiny bathing suit, all over again. She looked around for other women, but she didn't see any. Was this like their time in Egypt, where a woman could only go out to the marketplace, or anywhere else in public, if she was accompanied by her husband? Well, at least she had that covered, this time. But as she glanced down at her hand, she was shocked to see that her rings were gone too, just like her blade was. She looked at Cas's hand. His wedding ring was also gone. Terrific. Hopefully, they had only been left behind in Bobby's office, and not floating around in the time-space continuum, or something.

But at least they were here, and they were in one piece. Gail was amused and a little surprised to see that the men wore just as few clothes as she did. Paul had a simple tunic on, that resembled a mini-dress, slung over one shoulder like a toga. Boy, Gail wished she had a cell phone. She would take a picture of him, and show all the ladies at Linda's stag-ette. And Gail couldn't help but notice that Paul was a lot more built than she'd realized, too. Attagirl, Linda.

Gabriel and Cas were bare-chested except for open vests, which didn't cover much. And, Saints be praised, they were wearing skirts! OK; she guessed that wasn't actually what they were called, but that was what they were. She stared at Cas now, open-mouthed. Wow. It just wasn't fair. His torso was tanned and muscular, and she could see the definition of his leg muscles now, too. Holy moly. What were they trying to do to her? She wondered if she would be sentenced to death if she went over there and just started touching him, right now. All in all, that might not be a bad way to go. Rowr.

Cas was handsome, all right, but he was also frowning. He was very angry with Gabriel at the moment. This could all have been avoided if they'd had Gabriel's blade. No wonder Leah had told them that obtaining it was a priority. But they couldn't worry about that now. They had to play the hand that they'd been dealt.

The first thing that occurred to Cas was that they would need to get some horses, but there was no way they could ride them with the type of garb they had on. Fortunately, both he and Gabriel had coin purses, attached at the waist.

"Paul, can you stay with Gail for a moment?" Cas said to the young Angel. "Gabriel and I need to go over to that stand down there, and buy some pantaloons. We'll just be a moment."

"OK, Cas," Paul said agreeably. "Make sure you get me some, too. I'm feeling a bit of a draft here, if you know what I mean."

"We'll be right back. Stay here," Cas said sternly. He grabbed Gabriel by the arm, and the men were soon swallowed up by the crowd of people.

"I hope he gets some for me, too," Gail said, her eyes wide. "Even what you're wearing would be an improvement. I'm gonna kill Gabriel."

The two of them looked at each other, and then they burst out laughing. "I wonder how much your brother would pay to see those guys in skirts," Paul smirked. "The Winchesters, too."

Gail laughed again. "Let's make sure we remember what they look like, so we can describe it in great detail when we get back," she said, smiling mischievously.

"What are the two of you doing here? Come with me," a man said angrily. He grabbed Paul by the arm, but Paul wrested himself out of his grasp. "Hey, man! Don't touch the merchandise," he said insolently, and the stranger sneered at him. "Do not test me, Boy. We're behind schedule as it is. Take care of him," he said to a couple of other men who were standing by. They seized Paul and started to hustle him through the crowd.

"You, too," the man said to Gail. "Get up there."

Gail looked where he was pointing, and as the crowd parted to let the men who were holding Paul by the arms through, she could see that there was a wooden structure there, that resembled a stage.

Paul saw it too, and his heart caught in his throat. What the actual - Phew. He didn't see a noose. Thank God. But what was going on here, then?

Gail started walking towards where they were taking Paul, so she wouldn't lose sight of him. When Cas and Gabriel got back, they would see their companions, she was sure. Now, the men were pushing Paul up the steps to stand with a group of other black men, and the man who had berated them was steering her to the other side. She walked up the steps there, and found herself standing at the opposite end of the stage, with a group of women.

She looked across at Paul. He had wrenched himself out of the men's grasp again and was looking around suspiciously. They made eye contact, and Gail gave him a half-shrug. What the heck was going on here? It looked like a high-school dance, with the men lined up on one side and the girls on the other, all of them too shy to be the first ones to dance. A nervous laugh bubbled up in her throat.

Now Paul thought he know what this was, maybe all too well. And it was almost as bad as a lynching. Sure enough, the man who had come out to fetch them stepped to the front of the stage and called out: "Let the auction begin."

Cas and Gabriel had made their purchases as quickly as possible, buying two pairs of pantaloons for themselves, and one for Paul. Cas knew that it would not be acceptable in this day and age for Gail to wear pants, not under any circumstances; so he bought her a more modest sheath dress to wear. She would be riding with him, anyway. He could place her in front of him, so she could ride side-saddle.

They headed back to where Paul and Gail had been, but the two were nowhere to be seen. Cas swore softly, under his breath. He'd told them to stay put.

But then, he saw the reason why.

"We will start with the women," the auctioneer told the assembled crowd. He strode over to where Gail stood and grabbed her by the upper arm, pulling her to the front of the stage.

"I don't think that one's finished growing, yet!" Hakeem shouted, and all the men in the crowd laughed.

Cas and Gabriel looked at each other. They pushed through the crowd, closer to the stage. And sure enough, there he was, in all his ugly glory. Hakeem.

"Watch out; he'll see us," Castiel cautioned.

"Doesn't matter," Gabe said, smiling. "At least I did something right. I brought us back six months earlier than when we were here before. Therefore, we haven't had the displeasure of making his acquaintance yet."

As Cas nodded in approval of Gabriel's action, the Archangel yelled out to Hakeem, "Hey, at least she's not ugly, like your mother!"

Paul barked out a short laugh. Had Gabriel just thrown down history's first "Yo' Mama" gauntlet?

Hakeem was less amused. He glared at Gabriel, motioning to his chest and the ornate gold breastplate he wore there. "As you can plainly see, I am a member of the Royal Council," he told Gabriel. "I assume that you and your companion are not from our region, as I have never seen you before. Still, you must know what happens to people who disrespect the Royal authority."

"What do you say, Hakeem?" the auctioneer spoke up. He knew what happened to people who disrespected the Royal authority too, but he also had a business to run.

"I will take her," Cas said loudly. He pointed to Paul. "And that young slave, as well."

The auctioneer brightened. This was more like it. "Very good," he said. "How much will you give me for the both of them?" Cas quoted a price, and the man nodded and said, "That will be satisfactory. Unless you would also like to make an offer, Hakeem?"

The Royal Councilman considered. He did like the look of the young slave. He looked healthy and strong, and of excellent breeding stock. But the girl, though shapely enough, was short, and relatively unattractive. Although the way he used most of these kinds of girls, Hakeem supposed it didn't matter all that much. He wouldn't even have to look at her face, if he didn't want to. But he had come here with a specific type of woman in mind, and there were a couple of really beautiful, taller ones still up for bids. So, he shook his head. "I'll pass. Let the stranger have the boy, and the runt." That earned him another sycophantic laugh from the crowd.

"That rotten son of a bitch," Gabriel said softly to Cas, seething. "He doesn't have to be so insulting."

Cas was bemused. "While I appreciate your indignation on my wife's behalf, it's unnecessary. If he's uninterested in Gail, so much the better." He looked at the other women on the stage. "I don't see Athena there," he remarked.

Gabriel frowned. "That's because we're already too late. Look." He pointed. A tall, willowy blonde woman had threaded her way through the crowd, and she was handing a dipper full of water to Hakeem now.

Castiel's eyebrows rose. "I felt sure that you had brought us back early so that you could buy her, first," he said to Gabriel.

The Archangel sighed. "I thought seriously about doing that, but I was worried about the Butterfly Effect. And before you ask me what that is - "

"I know what it is," Cas said soberly. "But I also believe that exceptions could be made, in certain extreme situations. And, considering the type of individual Hakeem is..." He trailed off, knowing that Gabriel knew what the inference was.

"Don't you think I know what kind of man he is?" Gabriel said angrily. "I saw the bruises on her, remember? Besides violating her, repeatedly, he used to choke her, and if she still didn't submit to his sick demands, he'd punch her out. Don't talk to me about making exceptions. I was trying to serve the greater good, Cas. Now, pay attention to the auction, or some other guy's gonna buy your wife right out from under you." It was indicative of Gabe's agitated mental state that he didn't make a joke about that last part, but he was having a crisis of morals right now. Cas had been very astute. Gabriel actually had tried to bring them back a little bit further, to before Hakeem had bought Athena. But he'd been unsuccessful, just like he'd overshot, and landed them here in the marketplace instead. Hopefully, the Portal was still in his and Thena's secret rendezvous spot, cause it sure as hell wasn't here. He hadn't had the time to worry about that, yet. And the fact that their blades had been left behind was very inconvenient. Although not insurmountable, a fact that Cas had obviously realized too, because he wasn't still haranguing his Brother about it. Gabriel sighed. He guessed they'd better move locating his blade higher up on the To Do List. If he'd had his own blade, none of these screw-ups would have happened.

But they would just have to go with it, at least for now. The auctioneer called: "Going, going...gone!", and just like that, Cas had "bought" Gail and Paul. He moved forward to pay the auctioneer, as Paul and Gail descended the stairs.

Once the transaction was complete, the group moved away from the crowd. "Wow, that was an experience," Gail said shakily. "A really, really humiliating one. I'm just wondering how offended I should be that there were no other takers."

Paul was fuming. He'd known this journey wasn't going to be a walk in the park for someone of his skin colour, but still, they had been here all of five minutes, and he'd already been up for auction as a slave. Wait till Henri and Linda heard about this.

"I hope you don't expect me to thank you for 'buying' me," he said to Cas, through clenched teeth.

"Don't take that tone with me," Cas said quietly. "I am not your oppressor."

"Well, I"LL thank you, then, especially considering the alternative," Gail said quickly, trying to defuse the tension. "Did you SEE some of those guys? Yuk!"

Gabriel smiled. Trust his little Kitten to know the right time to make a quip. He looked down at her. "I'm sorry about the outfit, Gail. Cas bought you a more modest dress to wear." He looked at Cas. "What's the plan? We need horses, right?"

"Yes. And weapons," Castiel agreed. "Maybe you can accompany Gail to the town, so she can find a place to change. Paul and I will get the horses and the weapons, and we will meet you at the inn in town."

Cas and Gabe exchanged glances. The Archangel knew why Cas was asking him to accompany Gail, instead of Paul. Like it or not, they had to face certain realities of the era they were in. They had momentarily forgotten, and look what had already happened.

"Will do," Gabe said, nodding. Cas handed him the dress for Gail, and Gabriel smiled. "Just for interest's sake, what were you gonna do if Hakeem had successfully bid for Gail?" he asked Cas.

Cas looked at him calmly, but he said nothing. Gabriel's smile grew. "Screw the butterfly, eh, Brother?" he said happily.

"Yes," Cas said, answering his smile. "Screw the butterfly."

And before a confused Gail and Paul had the chance to ask what the hell the men were talking about, the men steered their respective companions away.

NOW

It was finally happening. Becky was doing the cover of Chloe magazine, a fashion periodical for women under the age of 30. The other cover shoot she'd been supposed to do around the time of Cas and Gail's Never Have I Ever party had fallen through, when that magazine had gone bankrupt. That had been a really bad time for Becky. She had failed to create the love potion she'd been working on, and her big break had turned out to be a big fat nothing.

But she had kept on working the smaller jobs, showing up on time and being friendly and cooperative, and eventually, she had been offered this assignment.

They were shooting her all wrong, though. Becky had been modelling for long enough now to know her best angles and lighting, and what kinds of poses made her look the cutest. But the photographer who was doing the shoot had never shot her before, and he wasn't picking up on her subtle hints. But Becky didn't want to push too hard, or they might get another girl to do it, instead. Modelling was a really competitive business.

Becky was waiting for the photographer to reload the camera when a tall, dark-haired man entered the room. He said something to Rick, the photographer, flashing him a business card. Rick told the man to have a seat, and then he resumed taking photos of Becky.

But after a couple of minutes, the man stood from his chair. "You're shooting her all wrong," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" Rick said coolly.

His visitor looked at him calmly. "She needs to look cute, but sexy. You're shooting her like she's a middle-aged woman." He motioned to Becky. "Come here, honey."

She walked over to where the men were standing. "What's your name, sweetie?" the stranger asked her.

"Becky," she replied.

"Well, Becky, if you and Rick here will take my advice, you're going to sell a lot of magazines," he said. "I'm an agent who specializes in representing young women who are looking to maximize their profiles, and their earning potential. I've heard that you're an up-and-comer, Becky, so I'll give you a couple of free tips: wear a darker shade of lipstick, and open the top three buttons on your blouse."

"But then, my bra will show," Becky protested.

"Exactly," he said. "Just a peek. And, Rick? You should be shooting her standing just slightly to the right, kneeling on a chair. Have her do some sweet-but-sexy stuff. Eating a popsicle, or a banana. Sipping on a drink, with a straw in it. Maybe a couple of drops dribble down onto her chest, into her cleavage. Trust me."

Rick and Becky looked at each other for a moment. "What do you think?" Rick asked the young model. "Are you willing to try that?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "It sounds pretty hot."

"But don't go too far, either," the man cautioned her. "There's a fine line between sexy, and slutty." Then he smiled. "Wait till you get a little older, and then you can be slutty."

Becky giggled. "Thank you for helping me," she said. "Are you taking any new clients? I don't think my agent's very good."

"I'll tell you what," he replied. "If it's OK with the two of you, I'll hang around till the end of the shoot. Then, if you're happy with my suggestions, we'll talk. How's that?"

"Sure," Becky said, extending her hand to him for a shake. "What's your name?"

"Vincent," he said, smiling charmingly.

COMPLICATED

THEN

"So, let me get this straight," Paul said to Cas as they walked along the dirt road away from the marketplace. "We're going out to the outskirts of town and grab a couple of wild horses? Like, wild, as in never been ridden before? What do you think this is, Blazing Saddles, or something?"

"I don't understand that reference," Cas said, squinting against the sun, and a few specks of dirt that the desert breeze had caught. There were a lot of things he'd missed about ancient life, but he had forgotten how dusty everything had been. "But, yes, that's what we're going to do. I have the ability to calm animals."

"I thought you said we were humans, now," Paul said, confused.

"No, what I said is that we are mortal," Cas corrected him. "There's a distinction to be made, there. If we had our blades with us, we would be able to utilize some of our powers, but seeing as we do not, we'll have to improvise. I have always been able to tame beasts, so I see no issue." He smiled wryly. "However, obtaining the weapons will be a bit more of a challenge."

The men walked on in silence for another few minutes, and then Paul said, "Where are we gonna get those weapons you have in mind?"

"Where else?" Cas replied. "From the Royal Guard, of course."

Paul gave him the side-eye. "Oh, right. So we're just going to waltz into that asshat Hakeem's backyard and steal some weapons out from under his nose?"

"That's right," Cas said, nodding.

Paul was silent for another minute, and then he said, "You're a complicated dude, Cas."

Cas nodded again. "Yes, I am," he agreed. Then he sighed. "I feel as if I should apologize for what happened to you and Gail back at the marketplace, even though I wasn't directly responsible for the way you were treated. Is that what you would refer to as 'white guilt'?"

Paul was surprised, and a little impressed, too. "Yeah, Cas. It is."

"I didn't send Gail to town with Gabriel because I don't trust you," Cas said to the young Angel. "I sent her with him because, quite frankly, I was worried about the same sort of thing happening to the both of you again. As you have seen, Nubians have no status here, in this day and age. Nor does any woman, unless she is a member of the Royal family. Gail is fair game to men like Hakeem. Therefore, I did not want to leave you and Gail vulnerable to that type of situation again." He smiled grimly. "Gabriel and Hakeem have a history. A deep-seated animosity, that Hakeem presently knows nothing about. Approximately six and a half months from now, Gabriel will kill Hakeem, sending him to Hell. If pressed, he will not hesitate to do so again, making him the next best protection for Gail to have. Next to myself, of course."

Paul smirked. "I know what you mean, but if I was betting, I might put a little side wager on your wife. From everything I've heard, she's gotten really good at kicking ass and taking names." There was another pause, and then Paul said, "Why were you and Gabriel here before, anyway? You never said."

"No. I didn't," Cas said tersely.

Paul stopped walking, and an instant later, Cas stopped, too. "Don't do that," Paul said, annoyed. "Don't treat me like 'the help'. If there's an actual reason you can't tell me, then, tell me that. But don't pull that enigmatic crap with me, Cas. I'm here, and I'm mortal, too."

Cas sighed heavily. He supposed that Paul had a point. The mission that he and Gabriel had been sent here to perform had been highly confidential at the time, but it was a moot point now, wasn't it? "All right, Paul. If you will be patient just a little longer, we will tell you and Gail the tale once we get these horses, and the weapons. It'll be a long ride to the cave. I thought that we would go for the jawbone, first. I will feel much more comfortable once we have it in our possession. I promise you that we will tell you everything, when we are all together next. Deal?"

Paul eyed him. He supposed that would have to do, for now. At least Cas was treating him like a partner now, and not an underling. Given the entire scope of their history, that was pretty much all he could ask.

"OK, Cas," the young Angel said, starting to walk again. "OK."

NOW

"I have to take a leak, you guys. I'll be back in a sec," Rob said.

He got up from their table and headed to the men's room, while Dean, Eric and Sam drank their first beers of the night. They were tired, but very satisfied with the job they'd done.

Soon after the Angels had left Frank's place, the young men had driven the Winchesters back over to the bunker. Sam checked his Alerts and found what appeared to be a spate of werewolf killings in Foley, Missouri, which was just a state's drive away. So they'd texted Frank to tell him where they were going, and a moment later, Dean's cell phone rang.

It was Frank. "Uhh...so you're only gonna be gone a couple of days, max?" he asked his friend.

"Yeah, probably," Dean replied. "Why?"

"I was kind of hoping you were going to keep the guys away for a bit longer," Frank said hesitantly.

"What are you talking about? What the hell's going on?" Dean asked, mystified.

Frank thought fast. "Well, we weren't gonna say anything, but...Jody and I kind of wanted to have a few days alone together, here at the house. It's really hard to get romantic with so many people around, all the time."

Dean made a face. "Awww, geez. That's one mental picture I didn't need. But now, I've gotta ask: why don't you guys just get a hotel, or something?"

"One word," Frank told his friend. "Angela."

Oh. Right. Dean hadn't really thought about that. Yeah, he guessed it must be kind of a challenge, to get busy with a toddler running around the house. But, as Frank had been counting on, Dean didn't want to put any more thought into it. It was bad enough that Cas and Gail were around, smooching all the time. Thinking about Frank and Jody being romantic with each other might just be enough to break his brain for good.

"I'll tell you what, Lover Boy," Dean said dryly. "Me and Sammy'll bring the guys back there on our way out of town, and tell them to pack a few more clothes. We'll try to keep 'em out of your thinning, grey hair for a few more days. How's that?"

"Oh, har, har," Frank retorted. "If you weren't helping me out, I would feel compelled to point out that you're not as funny as you think you are."

"Wow, what a burn on me," Dean said sarcastically. "You must really want that favour. That was pretty lame."

"Bite me," Frank said promptly, and Dean laughed. "That's more like it. See you soon." Then he'd hung up.

So, true to form, when Dean had told the young men about Frank's call, they'd wanted to avoid the subject matter, too. But they packed at least a week's worth of clothes, and then the four men had headed out.

As they waited for Rob to come back from the men's room, Sam said, "So, we'll relax tonight, and then maybe we'll see if we can find another case or two. Sound good?"

"Yep," Eric said, lifting his beer bottle in salute. "Maybe if we stay away for a couple of weeks, Jody'll be less cranky when we get back. Frank, too."

"OK, we're not talking about that," Dean said firmly.

Eric and Sam grinned. "Agreed," the young man said. He grabbed one of the menus. "Let's eat, so we can drink some more."

"I like the way you think," Dean enthused.

Meanwhile, Rob was washing up at the sink. Not all of the guys he and Eric hung around with bothered to wash their hands after relieving themselves, but Jody had raised Rob to be more fastidious about those kinds of things.

He was drying his hands with a couple of paper towels when it hit. Truthfully, Rob hadn't had any strong psychic visions for quite a while now. He'd even gone online, to do some research on the subject. Was it something you could grow out of, maybe? He'd heard that some people were allergic to things when they were kids, and then they suddenly weren't allergic to them anymore, when they'd passed into their 20s. Or, was it the other way around? Anyway, he'd been unable to find out anything definitive. Most of the links he'd found were scams, like Madame What's-Her-Face. The only psychics he knew personally were Quinn, and his Aunt Gail. He didn't feel like he knew Quinn well enough to talk about it with her, and Gail hadn't had her psychic powers in years, not since she'd become an Angel. And besides, she and Uncle Cas were time-travelling right now. He smiled. That was such a weird thing to think about. Where's your Aunt? Oh, she and my Uncle are in Egypt, about five thousand years ago. Okie-dokie. But that was the kind of thing that passed for normal, in Rob's family.

The four of them were in Foley, Missouri, which was a town near the banks of the Mississippi River. Rob and Eric had joked about renting a boat and floating down the Mighty Mississip', like Tom and Huck. Dean had said that if he was going to float down a river on a boat, it was gonna be on one of those paddlewheel gambling boats. Rob had still been thinking about that when he'd left their table to go to the washroom. He remembered seeing a movie with his Dad a few years ago, where the characters were playing poker on a boat like that. He couldn't remember the name of the movie, but it had been pretty cool.

All of a sudden, Rob could see an Angel blade, laying on a riverbank. He stood at the mirror, staring into it, but he no longer saw his own reflection. Instead, he saw the rushing river, the blade glinting in the sun, and a hand, reaching down and picking it up. Then, he saw a paddlewheel boat, just like the one in the movie. But was he seeing it because he'd just been thinking about it? Or was it connected to the Angel blade? Now, he saw the blood on the blade, and he heard screaming...

Then, just as suddenly, the vision was gone. He stood there for another minute or two, waiting, but it didn't come back. Rob washed his hands again, and then went back out to the bar to sit with the guys.

BOYS WILL BE BOYS

THEN

Gabriel had paid for a night's lodging at the inn, and Gail was bemused to note that the man who took the money did so without any questions whatsoever. In the present time, they asked for ID, or a credit card, or something. And in Egypt, when they'd been there to get the Earth Tablet, she had been looked at with suspicion, because she didn't have a husband.

This guy couldn't have cared less. He gave her a cursory leer, and then he turned around and walked away.

The room was very simple, of course. The inn was a small stone bungalow, and the room consisted only of a pallet of straw on the ground, and a door. But, hey, at least that meant they could close the door, for some privacy.

Gabriel handed her the dress, and Gail looked around. "Ummm...where do I change?" she asked him.

"Guess?" he said, smiling happily.

Gail rolled her eyes. "Just out of curiosity, where do people go to the bathroom?" she asked the Archangel.

He pointed to the corner of the room, where a stone bowl was sitting on the floor. They had to be kidding with that. But, what did they do with it, after...? Nope. Never mind. She didn't want to know.

"OK, turn around," she told Gabriel, and he smirked. "No can do, Kitten. I promised Castiel I'd keep an eye on you."

Gail made a face. "Look, Buddy-Boy, it's your fault I'm dressed like this in the first place. As it is, you nearly got me auctioned off to some strange man."

Gabe debated the prudence of reminding her that Castiel had been the only bidder, and then he decided that he'd better not push it. So he turned his back on her, so that she could put the dress on.

Gail took off the skirt, and then she slipped the dress on over her head, pulling it down to cover herself. She left the bra top on, to serve as underwear. The dress was quite modest, reaching well below her knees. Phew. If she couldn't have pants, at least she was decent, now. She examined the sheer skirt. Yikes. No wonder those guys had thought she was a -

"Can I turn around now?" Gabriel said, and Gail said, "Yeah, I guess so. Although I should make you stand in the corner with the chamber pot, for a time out."

He turned around, and she balled up the skirt and tossed it at him. "Here," she said, sour-faced. "Next time you're tempted to do something like that, don't."

"I'm sorry, Gail," he said, and his tone was genuine. "I guess I've spent so much time in the modern world now that I forget how backward things are here." He unfurled the skirt and looked at it. "Maybe you should make me wear it for a while, as punishment. Do you think I have the legs to pull it off?"

Gail laughed. "Did they hold a Charm School in Heaven, or do you and Cas just come by it naturally?"

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow. "Are you flirting with me, Kitten?"

She shrugged. "Sure, why not?" she joked. Then she said, "Can you tell me something? What were you and Cas doing here, all those years ago? How come you're so familiar with everything?"

He sighed. "Since we've got some time, I'll tell you a story. Do you want to sit on the comfy, soft mattress there? Here, I'll give you a hand." He extended his hand for her to take and helped lower her onto the pallet. Then he sat down next to her. "It's a good thing I've got these pantaloons on, or you would have seen far more of me than Castiel would like," Gabe quipped.

They were silent for a moment, and then Gabriel said, "Do you remember me telling you about Hakeem, when we went to Hell?"

Gail's forehead wrinkled. "Yes. Why?"

"He was the guy who was insulting you, back at the marketplace," Gabriel told her. "He's a rotten bastard of a man, who doesn't deserve to live. He buys slave girls and concubines, forces himself on them, and then beats them up, whether they submit to him or not."

Gail was appalled. "Oh, my God. That's terrible! Let me ask you another question, then: how come he's still alive?"

Gabriel smiled slowly. "You're my kind of woman, Gail." Then his smile faded. "I was sweet on one of 'his' women. Her name was Athena. She was aptly named, too. She was beautiful. Tall, slender, silky blonde hair. Just his type," he added bitterly. "I used to see her around town, with his bruises all over her. I tried to talk her into running away, but she said she had no place to go. I went to him and tried to buy her freedom, and he laughed in my face. Said he was a member of the Royal Council, and he could have me dismembered, or worse. You don't know how badly I wanted to burn that bastard, right down to the ground. It would have been so easy..." Gabriel clenched his fists. Then he let out a shaky breath. "But, Dad forbade it. Said we were here to do a job, and that was that. So, Castiel and I got the job done, but before we left, Hakeem accidentally ran into my blade. About fifteen or sixteen times." As Gail's lips twitched at that last comment, Gabriel laughed shortly. "Cas and I paid for that little act of disobedience. But, it was worth it."

They were silent for a moment, and Gabe was scrutinizing her face. Finally, he said, "Why aren't you saying something?"

There were so many things that Gail wanted to say at this moment that it was hard to decide. Finally, she went with, "I'm just trying to get past your use of the word 'forbade'."

Gabriel started to smile. "Hey, what can I say? I guess I lapsed into old-timey AngelSpeak there, for a minute."

"What did God do to you guys?" she asked him curiously.

Gabe gave her a half-shrug. "Ahhh, no biggie. The usual. Sackcloth, ashes, a little smiting...you know." He smiled faintly. "Cas really had my back, then. Dad was mad, because Cas didn't stop me. He could have thrown me under the proverbial bus, but he didn't. He stood right there next to me, and he took the same punishment as me. Later, I asked him why, and he said it was because we're Brothers, and because in his opinion, I did the right thing."

Gail smiled warmly. "That's my husband for you. He's pretty wonderful, isn't he?"

Gabriel smirked. "Yeah, I guess so. Dammit! Now, I'm thinking I should have waited to tell you that story. Now you're feeling all warm and fuzzy about HIM, when my goal was to make you feel sorry for ME."

Gail ignored him. She knew Gabriel pretty well by now, well enough to know that he frequently covered up painful emotions by being a smartass. She put her hand on his arm. "I DO feel sorry for you. And Cas. But I especially feel sorry for - what did you say her name was?"

"Athena," Gabe said softly. "'Thena, was what I called her. She and I used to get together in a private little spot, to talk, and..." He trailed off.

"Canoodle," Gail supplied, and the Archangel smiled. "Yeah. That," he said. "Cas would patrol the grounds, making sure we weren't caught. He was hoping I might be able to persuade her to run off, too. At least, that's what he said. I think that rascal was just rooting for our romance." Gabriel's smile widened into a grin. "He kept us from being discovered, even though Letitia tried her best to distract him."

"Who? Letitia? Who's that?" Gail asked him, and Gabriel cursed himself. Crap! He hadn't meant to say that. Obviously, Gabe's prediction to Liz had proven to be true. Cas hadn't told his wife about the beautiful, raven-haired Letitia. Hoo, boy. Gabriel's Brother was gonna have some explaining to do, when Cas got here. And so was Gabriel, because Cas wasn't going to be too happy that Gabe had opened up his big mouth about it. Well, that was what Cas got, for leaving Gabriel here alone with his wife.

"Read any good books lately?" Gabriel asked her, trying to look innocent.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Gabriel and Gail were standing outside the inn when Cas and Paul arrived. They were each riding a horse, and Cas was leading another horse by the reins. As they drew near, Gabriel could see that the horses all had saddles, with scabbards hanging from them.

The Archangel started to grin as the men came to a halt. "Well, well, would you look at this," he said, smirking. "Wild horses running around the desert, fully equipped with saddles and swords. Now, I've seen everything."

Cas lowered himself to the ground and tethered the horses to a post in front of the inn. "Yes, it's truly remarkable," he said in response to Gabriel's comment. "It's merely a coincidence that Hakeem is missing a horse, and four swords."

Gabriel came forward and clapped Cas on the shoulder. "How in the hell did you manage that?" he asked his Brother.

Cas gave him a look. Then he said, "The Royal Guard were a little the worse for wear after what we in our time will call 'Happy Hour'. You remember how much they liked their wine. It was not very difficult. All Paul and I had to do was wait, to hear the snoring sounds."

Paul was a little slower descending from his horse than Cas had been, but he was grinning. He'd been a little skeptical, but Cas had tamed two wild horses in the desert as promised, and then he had told Paul about his plan to steal a third, and the weapons, out from under the guard's drunken noses. So Paul was pretty impressed with Cas right now, even though the young Angel's butt was pretty sore at the moment. Cleavon Little notwithstanding, Paul preferred his mustangs to be of the classic car variety.

Cas went to Gail. "Are you OK, my love? You look very nice in that dress. Is it comfortable?"

"It's good, Cas," she told him. "So, what's the plan?"

"If Gabriel is agreeable, I think we should head out to the desert in a couple of hours, once the horses have had a chance to rest," he said. "We'll get some water from the innkeeper. The sun should be starting to set, by then. The Sea of Galilee is a five or six-day ride from here. There are blankets in the horses' saddlebags. I'm afraid there isn't much else, but you can ride with me, and I'll keep you as warm as possible. At least we don't have the need to sleep, but the horses will have to rest every now and then. But I'd like to get going as soon as possible. Since the Portal will only be in place for a month, we will have to be quick if we hope to accomplish both of our missions."

"Why were you and Gabriel here before, Cas?" she asked him.

"I promised Paul that we would tell both of you about it, on our journey," he replied.

Gail nodded. "Oh, so there was another reason to be here, other than hanging around with beautiful girls."

Cas looked angrily at Gabriel, who shrugged. "Oops," the Archangel said.

NOW

Laurel and Chuck had been talking in the library when Linda entered. "Am I interrupting anything?" she asked the couple.

"No, we were just talking about the wedding," Laurel said.

"Oh, good," Linda said happily. "That's what I'm here to talk about, too. Mine, not yours."

"What about it, Linda?" Chuck asked her. He and Laurel knew that she and Paul were engaged, of course. Word had spread like wildfire.

"I need to do some research," Linda responded. "I wonder if you have any books on traditions for Southern Baptist weddings."

"Southern Baptist?" Chuck echoed blankly.

Linda let out a breath. "Yes, Chuck. Paul told me his religious background is Southern Baptist. I'm trying to find out if there are any of their traditions that we could use for our ceremony."

"That's nice," Laurel remarked. "I'm sure he would appreciate that."

Chuck was typing away at the computer he kept at the front desk. "I don't think we'll need any books," he said affably. "I'll just Google - oh."

"What?" Linda said sharply. "What do you mean, 'oh'?"

"It says here that Southern Baptists don't approve of drinking and dancing," Chuck said, frowning. Then his beard twitched with amusement. "Isn't that the whole point of having a reception?"

"Actually, Korean weddings don't usually even have a reception," Linda remarked. "We usually just have a meal, and then we have a ceremony just for the family, called a 'pyebaek'. But I was thinking about having a reception, 'cause we're going to get married on Earth, like you guys." She grinned. "Can you imagine a wedding reception with no drinking? Dean and Frank would never forgive us."

Laurel laughed. "I have to admit, that sounds kind of dull. Especially if there's no dancing. I love to dance."

"The website I'm looking at says that's only the really conservative conservatives, though," Chuck added. "I can't imagine Paul would be one of those, though, since he used to be a Demon."

Laurel gasped, and Linda fixed Chuck with a baleful glare. "As I recall, so did you," she said coolly.

Chuck was shamefaced. "I'm sorry, Linda. I didn't mean anything by that. It was just an idle comment."

"Well, keep your comments to yourself," Linda said tartly. "Right now, Paul is in ancient Egypt, risking his life on a very important mission for Heaven. And, what are you doing? Oh, that's right; you're writing a movie script. Never mind. I'll do my research elsewhere."

She turned on her heel and stalked out of the library as Chuck and Laurel stared after her. Then Laurel turned to Chuck and raised her eyebrows. "Well, he was," Chuck said weakly.

"Fine," Laurel said in a clipped tone. "But, as Linda pointed out, you were a bad guy, too. One of the worst, for a while there. But you changed, and you redeemed yourself, and we all forgave you. Now, Paul is doing the same. I would think that you, of all people, could give him a break."

Chuck frowned. He wished she hadn't put it quite that way, but as usual, she was right. It was just a little hard for Chuck to fully accept Paul as one of the good guys. But he guessed he was being a hypocrite on that score, wasn't he? He himself had been annoyed that the Winchesters had viewed him with suspicion, when he had genuinely been trying to mend his ways.

"You're right, Laurel," he said, taking her hand. "Now, what kind of food would you like to serve our human friends at the reception?"

THE HARD WAY, EVERY TIME

THEN

They had been riding through the desert for hours now, and Cas and Gabriel agreed that they were going to have to stop soon. The horses needed rest, and water.

Gail and Paul had been impressed by the men's acumen when it came to things like knowing exactly where they were going. There certainly weren't any street signs, were there? There weren't even streets. Just sand, and more sand. Gail sighed. She'd just shaken off the last bits of sand from their trip to the Caribbean and now, here she was again. Sometime, somehow, she was going to have to insist on a mission where it wasn't a hundred damn degrees all the time.

Actually, though, once the sun had gone down, the temperature became quite comfortable. And when they finally stopped to make camp, her teeth were chattering. Cas cajoled the horses to sleep, and then he spread a blanket out on the sand for Gail to sit on. He wrapped another blanket around her, telling her he'd be right back to cuddle her after he and Gabriel built a fire.

A fire, in the desert, Gail thought, bemused. But the idea appealed to her, nonetheless. It was weird how it could be so hot during the day, but so chilly now.

"I'm feeling distinctly un-manly, right now," Paul said to Gail, watching the other men build the fire. "I never learned how to do all this wilderness stuff. Of course, I haven't been around nearly as long as the two of them have, either."

"No one has," Gail quipped. "We're products of our time," she added. "In the modern age, we have electricity, and GPS. People who lived here back then needed to learn the skills they did, just to survive."

"I hear that," Paul responded, nodding and wrapping his own blanket tighter around himself.

Once they had the fire going, Gabriel and Cas came back to sit with their companions. Gail opened the blanket she'd had wrapped around herself so that she could share it with Cas. He sat down with her, wrapped the blanket around the both of them, and put his arms around her. "Are you warm enough, my love?" he asked his wife, and she nodded.

Gabriel looked at Paul with a raised eyebrow, and the younger Angel said, "Awww, man! Do we have to?"

"I'm cold," Gabriel complained. "Look at Cas and Gail. They have the right idea."

Paul sighed. "Serve Heaven, they said. Do good deeds, they said. But they never said anything about having to cozy up to another guy. Geez." He opened his blanket. "All right. Come in, then. Just...don't tell anybody about it. Ever."

"So you mean I shouldn't use this in my wedding toast, for you and Linda?" Gabriel teased him. "It'll be tasteful, I promise." Then he produced the blanket he'd been hiding behind his back. "Psych! I just wanted to see if you'd do it."

Paul rolled his eyes as Gabriel sat down with the group. "Anybody got any good campfire stories?" he asked mischievously.

"I think you've told enough stories, today," Cas said, with a touch of irritation in his voice.

"Are you still mad about that whole Letitia thing?" Gabe asked him. "Gail understands. Don't you, Kitten?"

"Sure I do," Gail confirmed, nodding. "Just another woman who was madly in love with my husband. Story of my life."

"She was gorgeous, too," Gabriel said happily. "Think: Elizabeth Taylor, as Cleopatra. Actually, think Cleopatra as Cleopatra."

"Perhaps I shouldn't have passed my smiting ability on to Bobby," Cas said darkly, as Paul winced at what Gabriel was saying. Was the Archangel suicidal, or just nuts?

"I was just trying to point out that she was that beautiful, with gorgeous eyes, creamy skin, and a body that was so - " Gabriel was saying now, and Cas said, "That's it. I'm getting one of those swords."

"Let me finish," Gabriel insisted. He looked at Gail. "She was all that, and more, and Cas wasn't even tempted. Think about that, Gail. He never went for her. We were teasing him about it later, in Heaven."

"'We' were?" Cas said, frowning. "You mean, YOU were."

"Whatever, Gabriel said, shrugging. "And, you know what Cas said, then?"

"No," Gail replied, curious. "What?"

"He said he was waiting for his mate. His one true love," Gabriel said, smiling at the memory. "He said he didn't care what anyone else said or did. She was going to be worth the wait."

There was silence for a moment, and then Gail looked at Cas. "Did you really say that?"

"Yes, I did," he confirmed. His arms tightened around her. "And I meant every word of it, too. Both then, and now."

The two of them started to kiss as Gabriel smiled. There. He was no amateur when it came to getting out of trouble. He'd been doing it for thousands of years. He looked at Paul, still smiling warmly, and the look on Paul's face at that moment was so comical that Gabe nearly laughed out loud. Paul was proving to be so much more fun than his father. Granted, he was a little abrasive, especially when it came to the issue of race, but Paul was also funny, articulate, and ethical. Gabriel was slowly warming to him.

"Are you ready to tell us why you were here, before?" Paul asked the men. Gabriel and Cas exchanged glances, and Cas took a deep breath.

"We were here on a mission from God," Castiel said soberly.

"Who are you guys, The Blues Brothers?" Paul joked, but Cas looked at him with a blank expression. Paul shrugged. Oh, well. You couldn't win 'em all.

Cas had started out slowly, because he was still loath to tell Paul what he and Gabriel had really been sent here for, all those years ago. Now he fell silent, so Gabe picked up the torch.

"Dad sent us here to retrieve your father," Gabriel told Paul.

Paul was stunned for a moment, and then he exclaimed, "'Retrieve'? What do you mean, 'retrieve'?"

Another pause, and then Cas said, ""Raphael was not always..." He fell silent, then tried again. "Your father was once one of Heaven's greatest heroes. He was instrumental in helping our Father to rid the Earth of Demons. He would bind them, and then exterminate them."

"Yeah, until he bound the wrong Demon: Azazel," Gabriel said bitterly.

Gail looked at the Archangel sharply. Why did she know that name?

"Azazel corrupted him," Cas said softly. "Raphael had the Arm of the Lord, and he was about to smite Azazel with it when something went wrong. We can only surmise that Azazel used his considerable powers of persuasion to get Raphael to spare his life, and then turned him against Heaven."

"When Raffy didn't come back, our Father sent me here to retrieve him," Gabriel said. "I think Dad must have suspected that something was up, because instead of sending an army of ordinary Angels, He sent the only Archangel He had who could stand up to Raphael without being disintegrated. Or worse, joining him on the dark side."

"You were also glib," Cas added, "with powers of persuasion to rival Azazel's own."

"How else do you think I've managed to woo all those beautiful women for all of these years?" Gabriel quipped, waggling his eyebrows. "Thanks for the compliment, Bro."

Cas saw no need to tell Gabriel that he hadn't necessarily meant it as a compliment. Then Gail said, "But then, why did Cas come with you?"

Gabriel gave her a half-shrug. "Because Dad didn't trust me; not completely, anyway. He thought I might not take the job all that seriously, and come down here to fool around, instead. Me. Can you imagine?"

As Gail tried to think of something diplomatic to say in response, Gabe went on: "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's OK. I get it. When you're a Trickster, you have to expect that kind of thing. Plus, I'm a lover, not a fighter. I was gonna do what I had to do, but confrontation isn't really my thing. Never has been. So, Dad sent His best soldier as my escort. Cas was the muscle, and he was also supposed to keep me on the straight and narrow. And he did. Well, kind of."

Paul was astounded. He'd been looking back and forth between Cas and Gabriel and Gabriel and Cas, but for the moment, he was rendered speechless.

Gail wasn't, though. "Wait a minute," she said slowly. "Azazel? Isn't that the guy who killed Sam and Dean's mother?"

"Yes. That's right," Cas confirmed.

She was starting to feel excited now. "And Gabriel, didn't you say that you've brought us back to six months before you guys were here before?" He'd told her that, back at the inn.

The Archangel looked at her, his eyes narrowing. Gabriel was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. She'd better not be about to say what he suspected she was about to say.

Oh, but she was. "Well then, we have another mission, don't we?" Gail said brightly. She looked at Paul. "A couple, actually. We could take care of that little matter, while we're here. We could kill Azazel ourselves, before Raphael even gets here." Her heart started to beat faster as she squirmed out of Cas's arms in her excitement. Then she turned to look at him. "We could kill Azazel, Cas! Then, Sam and Dean could have their family back!"

But Cas and Gabriel were both shaking their heads. "What? What's this you're both doing, now?" Gail said tartly.

"You know we can't do that, Gail," Gabriel said in a serious tone. "You're an intelligent woman. You know we can't change something that significant in the timeline."

"Why not? Because of that stupid, so-called Butterfly Effect?" she said, agitated. "So what?" Gail turned to look at Cas again. "They could have their family back, Cas," she said pleadingly.

"Enough," her husband told her angrily. "Don't you think I would love to do that? I've seen first-hand the pain and torment they have been through due to the loss of their parents, and the fact that they have been thrust into the role of Hunters from such young ages. You of all people know how much Sam and Dean mean to me. But it's out of the question. If we were to change anything that major here in the past, as Gabriel says, the consequences to the future could be dire. Any number of scenarios could arise from that act, many of them very undesirable. As difficult as it's been on them over the years, if Sam and Dean had never lost their mother, they would not have become Hunters, and they would never have helped to avert the Apocalypse."

"The Butterfly Effect," Paul said aloud, finally finding his words. "Yeah. Henri's a big science fiction fan. We talked about that, before I left to come here. His books on time travel seem to suggest that if we so much as step on an insect here, it could rebound on our asses in the future."

"Well, I don't know about that, but if I see anything crawl onto this blanket, you guys need to deal with it," Gail quipped. Then she looked at Cas, touching his face. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I shouldn't have said that. I know how much Sam and Dean mean to you. I know that you would do anything you could for them. Forget I said that."

He put his arms around her again, hugging her to him. "I know, my love. I know you love them, too," Cas said softly, kissing her on the forehead.

"The insect thing may be overstating it, but there's validity to the theory," Gabriel said quietly. "If we were going to do anything that game-changing, it would change too much. It's as simple as that."

"Still, I wish I could have seen my father as a hero, just once," Paul said, sighing. "I had no idea he had done any of that."

Cas and Gabriel exchanged glances. They were both silent, but Gail looked from one to the other, suspicious. "What aren't you guys telling us?" she asked.

NOW

Jody was packing for the hospital when Frank came into their bedroom. He just stood there for a moment, not saying anything. She continued what she was doing for another minute or so, and then she looked at him. "Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to say something?" Jody said irritably. "I can get used to a lot of things if I have to, but you with a closed mouth isn't one of them."

Still, he said nothing. "Is it the boys?" Jody said, her heart skipping a beat. "Are they all right?"

Frank nodded. "No, they're fine, Jodes. Dr. Uxbridge's office called. He cancelled the surgery."

She started to smile. "Well, that's good, isn't it?" she asked her husband.

"He wants to see us," Frank answered evasively.

"What about?" Jody said, approaching him. She was studying Frank's face. "To tell us they've made a big, fat mistake, and there's nothing wrong with me?" She tried a smile on for size. "Great. Then, we can call up...those guys, and tell them they can come home."

Frank frowned. "Who? Who can we call, Jody?" he asked her softly.

"You know. The guys," she replied. "Our son, and his brother. And our friends."

"Tell me our son's name," her husband said, staring her in the face.

"Don't be stupid," Jody snapped. "You'd better call for a babysitter, if we have to get over there."

"What's our son's name, Jody?" Frank persisted.

"I don't know!" she shouted. "Are you happy now? I don't know!"

He nodded briefly, taking his wife in his arms. "OK, Jody. OK. Come on; let's give Bobby a call."

THEN

Cas and Gabriel had taken pity on Paul during their fireside chat, so the next morning, they deviated slightly from the path they'd been on to go deeper into the desert.

"Now, you understand that we cannot communicate with him, or let him see us," Cas was saying to Paul now. "You can observe your father exterminating a Demon, but then, we will have to leave."

Paul nodded. He had been stunned when they had told him last night that his Dad was already here, doing God's work. The men hadn't intended to tell the young Angel about that, but then, Cas had had an attack of conscience. He was the one who had taken the Archangel away from his son, when he had killed Raphael on Earth. Whether or not the Archangel's murder had been of benefit to the human race, it had still been a dishonourable killing, and Cas deeply regretted the circumstances under which it had taken place. The fact that Raphael would never have been allowed to live to bring about the Apocalypse was irrelevant at the moment. This was both much bigger, and much smaller, at the same time. It was about a man who was hungering to see his father as something other than an arrogant bastard who'd thought that he was greater than God. Well, Gabriel and Castiel's Father WAS God, but they could both definitely relate to the bitter pain of disappointment that only a son could feel when he discovered that the father he had looked up to and revered was far from perfect.

Gabriel led the party to the hillside which overlooked the Valley of the Righteous. They dismounted quietly as Cas spoke softly to the horses, telling them to be calm. Gabriel nudged Paul, pointing to the crest of the hill.

The young Angel peered down into the valley and saw his father, dressed in a white robe and sandals, standing over a man and a woman who had black eyes, and who were spewing curses at him.

"Our Master will kill you all," the male Demon snarled.

"Is that so?" Raphael said calmly. "And how is he going to do that, from the prison cell that my Father has built in which to encage him?"

"He will go free," the female said, smiling. "Join us, Raphael."

"That will never happen," the Archangel said.

"He can give you anything that you desire." What the hell was this, now? Paul wondered, puzzled. Another man had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and he was leaning casually against a boulder, smiling at Raphael. But he couldn't be a Demon, Paul realized. He didn't have black eyes.

"And what is it that you think I desire?" Raphael asked the newcomer.

"You dislike humans," the man stated matter-of-factly. "So do we. Lucifer is going to need some good soldiers to send down here and clean house, once he has taken over. You could lead the troops. And if you can bring him some of your compatriots, he will reward you with anything you desire. Power, riches, women...anything."

"You need a new sales pitch, Azazel," Raphael said dryly, and Paul gasped. Azazel?! But he wasn't due to show up for six more months! Paul turned around and beckoned to his companions, and they approached where he was standing.

Gabriel's mouth fell open. He and Cas recognized Azazel immediately, of course. But they were as surprised as Paul was to see him here now.

"I don't need a new sales pitch," the Demon said to Raphael, and his eyes flashed yellow for a moment. "You just need to realize that you are on the losing side of the equasion. We will prevail, eventually. We're all eternal beings here, Raphael."

"Yeah? Well, here's my answer to your proposal," the Archangel said. He put a hand each on the kneeling Demons' heads and spoke a few Latin words, and their skulls caught fire. They screamed in agony, and seconds later, their vessels were reduced to ashes on the ground.

Instead of appearing upset, Azazel merely smiled. "God has given you the power, I see."

"Yes, He has," Raphael replied coolly.

"How does it feel?" Azazel asked him curiously.

"Why don't you come over here, and I'll show you?" the Archangel said, and incredibly, he returned Azazel's smile. But still, Paul was captivated. He'd never seen his father like this before. So calm. So Righteous. So...cool.

"Maybe you should go into the marketplace in town, and smite a few of the merchants there," Azazel said slyly. "Unless you don't mind the fact that your kind are being sold into slavery there, like so much cattle."

"My kind? What do you mean? Angels?" Raphael quipped, and Paul had to clap a hand over his mouth to stop the laugh from escaping. His Dad was being funny? He tried to remember if his father had ever so much as cracked a smile.

"Laugh all you want, but I know it bothers you," Azazel persisted. Then his eyes became yellow again as he grinned. "In fact, you would have been especially interested in a little transaction that took place there yesterday. Two individuals you are personally acquainted with arrived in town, and the very first thing they did was attend the auction, where they bought a whore, and a young black slave." He lifted his head skyward. "Isn't that right, Castiel?"

Azazel snapped his fingers, and the ground shook violently. Gail's feet went out from under her, and she slid down the hill on her backside. Gabriel followed, then Paul, then Cas.

"Ow," Gail said, getting slowly to her feet. Paul took her elbow, helping her. He winced as he put weight on his right leg, but thankfully, it held.

Gabriel was dusting himself off as Raphael said, "Gabriel? Castiel? What are the two of you doing here?"

"Your loving, trusting Father sent them here, to check up on you," Azazel said snidely.

Paul was looking at his father, wide-eyed. Raphael wouldn't know him, of course. This was way before Paul's time. His Dad was looking at him with narrowed eyes. Then the Archangel looked at Gail.

"Did you buy this whore, Gabriel?" he said, with disgust in his voice.

"She is no whore. She is my wife," Cas said through gritted teeth.

"Your wife?" Raphael said with amusement. "What do you take me for, Castiel? I do not know why you feel compelled to cover for Gabriel's transgressions. I don't care if he chooses to run around with loose women. But how can you justify buying a slave?"

"They're white, and they're God's favourites," Azazel said, smirking. "That's how. You think your Father sent you here because He holds you in such high esteem? Guess again, Raphael. He's banished you out here in the hot sun to do a job none of the other ones wanted to do. You're God's slave, Raphael." The Demon looked at the Angels, and grinned that sly, horrible grin. "Just as your son is theirs."

NOW

"You have a massive brain tumor. A Glioblastoma Multiforme, or GBM, for short," Dr. Uxbridge told Jody.

"OK, so why'd you cancel the surgery?" Frank said angrily. "Shouldn't you go in there and get it, then?"

Robert sat back in his chair, trying to think of the best words to use in this situation. He'd been a neurosurgeon for a number of years now, and in his experience, everyone reacted differently when confronted with this type of reality. The patient's husband looked like he was just about ready to leap across the desk and punch the doctor out, while the patient herself just looked pensive. Uxbridge suspected that a part of Jody had actually accepted this reality a long time ago.

"I think what he's trying to tell us is that there's no point," Jody said, confirming the doctor's thought.

The neurosurgeon sighed. "I'm afraid you're right. Despite the fact that I operate on people for a living, I'm reluctant to open someone's skull for no apparent reason. So I sent your film to the country's leading oncologist, and he agrees. The tumor is massive, and it's aggressive. Even if we were to go in there, there would be very little we could do."

"What about a non-surgical option?" Jody asked, even though she was sure she already knew the answer.

"We could try all of that, if you want," Dr. Uxbridge said calmly. "But generally, for a tumor this malignant, all we would be doing was postponing the inevitable."

Jody took a deep breath, letting it out shakily. "How long?"

"People in your age group can usually maintain most of their cognitive function for a year or so after the tumor is discovered," Robert replied, somewhat non-responsively.

"This morning, I forgot my son's name," she said sharply. "How long?"

"If I had to guess, I would say about a year and a half," the doctor said quietly. "You could live longer, if we bombard you with chemotherapy. It all comes down to quality of life, in my opinion. But, it's your choice, of course."

Frank was beyond stunned. He sat there watching their conversation as if it had nothing to do with him. Geez, what a crappy Movie of the Week this was. Or was it one of those hidden-camera shows, maybe? Was a guy with a cheesy grin going to pop his head in the door and tell them they were being pranked? He'd seen that show, the one where a bunch of kids put their friends in horrifying scenarios for TV, scaring the snot out of them for nothing but pure entertainment. This had to be something like that, right? But Jody would never do anything this mean to him, and Frank knew that this morning, she had honestly forgotten Rob's name. There had been other signs too, but Frank had kept himself in total denial about the whole thing. After Cas had said that he didn't know what was going on in Jody's head, Frank had told himself that meant that everything was fine. Because that was what you did. It was much easier to convince yourself that you were being paranoid than it was to face the truth. It was much easier to go about your business, make a lot of bad jokes, and ignore the fact that your wife was dying.

"Screw it," Jody said suddenly. "No operations, no chemo, no drugs. I won't be doing any of that. I'm just gonna go as hard as I can, for as long as I can. I've done my research, and everything I've read indicates that there is a statistical survival rate." She glanced at Frank. Yeah, there was, but it was infinitesimal, about 8 percent. Maybe she wouldn't share those numbers with her husband just yet, though. He looked like he was getting ready to cry, or something.

"I'll leave the two of you alone for a few minutes," Dr. Uxbridge said in a compassionate tone. "You'll probably have some questions, once things have a chance to settle. See my receptionist on your way out, and she'll set up an appointment. I'm sorry, Jody. I'm sorry I've had to be the bearer of such bad news. Come and see me when you're ready, and I'll help you however I can."

The doctor rose from his desk and left the room abruptly. There was no sense in prolonging things. The two of them needed to talk, to start the process towards acceptance.

Jody took Frank's hand. "We need to talk, Pookie."

THEN

It was the oldest cliche in the Bible, wasn't it? Denying someone, in the desert? But he had to do it. He had no choice.

"His son? I don't know what you're babbling on about," Paul said to Azazel. "I'm nobody's son, and I ain't no slave. I'm an Angel, just like they are, and I serve Heaven, not them."

Raphael was staring at Paul now, with an inscrutable look on his face. Paul felt about twelve different emotions, all at once. Pride in his Dad, for smiting the crap out of those Demons and telling Azazel and Lucifer to take a hike. Anger, that his father had never been funny with him. Raphael had only ever taught Paul to be an arrogant dick, because that was all that his father had been, by the time Paul had come into being. And regret, that things hadn't worked out differently.

Cas was struggling now, too. He could see the battle taking place within Paul right now. It was evident in the young Angel's face. And there was one other quality that Cas could see, one that Paul might not even realize was part of the mix: Cas saw love.

Now, Cas was wondering if he should just ignore everything that he and Gabriel had preached to Gail the night before. Maybe they should bring Raphael back with them now, to the current timeline. Then Paul could have his father back. The original, good version. Raphael obviously hadn't yet been corrupted by Azazel, but if they left him here, that was exactly what was going to happen. There would have been no reason for Castiel and Raphael to have been mortal enemies if Azazel hadn't burrowed into Raphael's head, like the filthy cockroach he was, and perverted the Archangel's ideals. But then, a little voice inside Cas's head piped up, telling him that these thoughts he was having were ultimately self-serving. Castiel just wanted to alleviate his own guilty conscience, didn't he? Wasn't that why he was considering the most radical move he could ever make? Why didn't he just join Lucifer and start the Apocalypse, then, while he was at it?

"You see, Raphael? Do you see what they have done to your son?" Azazel said now. "They force him to deny you!"

"Nobody's forcing anybody to do anything!" Gail shouted angrily. "Screw the Butterfly Effect! We should just cut off your head right now, you yellow-eyed bastard!"

Azazel looked coldly at her. "This is none of your business, whore."

Gail looked skyward. "I swear, if one more man calls me a whore today, I'm going to have to take him down!"

As Paul and Gabriel smirked, a sword suddenly appeared in Gail's hand. "Well, well. Would you look at that," she said, starting to smile. "Think fast, sweetie. You're taller than me." She tossed the sword to Cas, who caught it neatly. He advanced on Azazel.

"You can't kill me," the yellow-eyed Demon sneered. "That would mess up your precious timeline."

"I believe I'll risk it," Cas said with a grim smile. He gripped the sword with both hands, like a major-league batter preparing to hit a booming home run.

"You wouldn't dare," Azazel said, but his grin was faltering now. "Your Father would never permit it."

"Haven't you heard? I'm a rebel. A square peg in a round hole. I never do as I'm told. What is the expression? Sometimes, it's easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission." Cas gripped the sword tighter and started his swing.

Azazel disappeared.

Gabriel let out a shaky breath. For a second there, he'd really thought that Cas was going to do it. No wonder his Brother was such a good poker player.

Cas was shaking too, but from anger, not anxiety. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to do it. Even now, he couldn't actually swear that he would have held up on his swing had Azazel not blinked first.

Raphael was approaching Paul now, scrutinizing his face. "What is your name?" he asked the young Angel.

"Paul," his son said.

"I've always liked that name," Raphael said softly. "So, you are a partner with these men? An equal?"

"He sure is," Gabriel said firmly.

"Well, I'll be damned," Raphael said, in that same soft tone. Then he smiled. "My son, serving with Heaven's Elite." Then, he looked at Gail. "And a woman, too? Those are certainly enlightened times you live in." He looked at Gabriel next. "I don't know what's more surprising; the fact that you are acting responsibly, or the fact that Castiel was finally able to get a woman to marry him." Raphael smiled down at Gail. "You must be a remarkable woman, then. But, don't worry; I won't call you a whore again. I wouldn't want you to - what was that? - 'take me down'."

Raphael stood in front of Paul now. "You're a handsome young man," he told his son. "You must take after your mother, whoever she may turn out to be."

Paul was smiling, but he was crying, too. "Why couldn't you have been like this while I was growing up? I loved you, Dad! All I ever wanted was for you to love me back."

Raphael frowned. "But why on earth would you think I didn't love you?" He looked at Gabriel, mystified. "Why are you here? Really?"

Gabe threw his hands up in frustration. So much for keeping everything on the down-low. Not only had the proverbial cat fought its way out of the proverbial bag, but now, they would have to tell Raphael about his future. The cardinal rule of time travel was that, if you encountered a person whose destiny you could alter, you weren't supposed to tell them about it. He sighed. "Roughly six months from now, Azazel is going to have you convinced that the Apocalypse is a good idea. Father sends me and Castiel to come and get you, and you come back with us, but Azazel lives. Several thousand years from now, you'll find out that that was a really crappy decision, on everyone's part."

"It would appear so, if my own son regards me this way," Raphael said soberly, looking at Paul again. "How bad do I become?"

"Pretty bad," Paul said coolly.

"Tell me something, Paul, if you will," Raphael said to his son. "Are you happy with your present circumstance?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am, Dad," Paul replied. "I'm about to get married."

"Are you? That's wonderful," Raphael remarked. He looked at Cas. "Promise me that you will take good care of my son, Castiel. I know that you and I have never really seen eye to eye on many of Heaven's issues, but you are an honourable man."

Cas's heart sank into his stomach. Yes, he was the "honourable man" who was going to kill Paul's father so dishonourably in the future.

"If both you and Gabriel will promise me that you will do so, you may modify my memory, in a moment," Raphael continued. "I know that our Father must have His reasons for allowing events to unfold the way that they obviously will. As long as I know that my son is happy, I am willing to make the sacrifice." He opened his arms. "Come here, Paul."

Paul walked into his father's embrace, and Gail let out a choked sob. Cas went to her and put his arms around her, handing the sword he still held to Gabriel.

"No matter what I say or how I may act in the future, I am telling you now that I love you," Raphael said to his son.

"I love you too, Dad," Paul said in a thick voice.

A moment later, they broke the embrace, and Paul stepped back. "It was good to meet you," he said, wiping away the tears on his cheeks with the heels of his hands.

"Likewise," Raphael said. He gestured. "Gabriel?"

His Archangel Brother stepped forward. "You know if there was anything we could do - " Gabriel started to say, but Raphael stood up straighter and said, "His Will be done. Get on with it, Gabriel. Please."

Gabriel put his hand on Raphael's head, and Paul's father closed his eyes. Gabriel modified Raphael's memory, erasing all recollection of the encounter. Then he gave Raphael the push, sending him elsewhere in the desert.

They were all silent for a moment, and then Gail said, "Hey, wait a minute. I thought we didn't have any celestial powers here. Then, how come that sword just appeared in my hand? And, how were you able to do THAT?"

"That's Dad's way of letting us know that we did the right thing," Gabriel told her. He looked at Paul. "How're you doing? Are you OK?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Paul replied.

"Fair enough," Gabe said. "This whole thing will probably take you a while to process. Cas and I were just trying to do you a favour. We had no idea Azazel was gonna show up, and do that." He grinned, looking at the sword he was holding in his hand. "I think you win Quip of the Day, Kitten." He cleared his throat, then imitated her in a high falsetto voice, "'I swear, if one more man calls me a whore today, I'm going to have to take him down'!"

Cas gave his wife a squeeze. "Father always did love my darling Gail's sense of humour," he said, his lips twitching.

Gail smiled, but she was looking at Paul with sympathy now. "I hope you're going to come out of this with a positive outlook," she said to him. "I'm someone who knows a lot about father issues, and I've gotta tell you, I would have loved to have had a Dad who was that Good, and that cool."

Paul smiled back at her, but it was a sad, bitter smile. "Maybe one day, I'll be able to look on this day and feel the same way, Boo," he said softly. "But right now, I just feel sad, and mad, and..." He sighed. "I didn't even recognize that man. Henri's been more of a father to me than Raphael ever was. But I realize I owe you guys a debt of gratitude, for showing me that he wasn't always the ignorant son of a bitch I grew up with. Sorry, Gail," he added automatically, as if Henri were here to admonish him about his language.

"Well, we'd better get going," Gabriel sighed. "We've still got a few more days' ride till we get to the cave."

They trudged back up the side of the hill that hadn't collapsed. The horses still stood there calmly, waiting for them. They mounted the animals silently, then rode away.

NOW

Jody squeezed her husband's hand. "When I was a kid in school, I used to put off all of my projects until the last minute," she said to him.

"Jody - " Frank started to say, but she shook her head. "Frank, let me get this out. Please."

So he nodded, and she continued, "My mother used to get on my case about it. She used to say, 'Why do you have to do it the hard way, every time?' And she was right. Of course she was. But the next time I was assigned a project, I would do the same damn thing, time and time again." She sighed. "Then I decided to go into the male-dominated profession of law enforcement, and then, I accepted a position in a small town that would put me in charge of a couple of dozen testosterone-fueled men. The hard way, every time." She smiled sadly at him. "So, it only stands to reason that my brain would grow a tumor that has such a depressing prognosis. But we're not going to worry about that, Frank. We're going to go home, and go about our business. We're going to love each other and our family, and we're going to strive to make the world a better place for our kids, and their kids, too. And when it comes to the point where I can't do those things any more, you're going to kiss me, and hold my hand, and then you're going to let me go, just like we talked about. OK, Pookie? Do we have a deal?"

A tear squeezed out of the corner of Frank's eye and dribbled down his cheek. "Yeah," he told his wife. "We have a deal."

"Then give me a kiss, and then stop being such a crybaby," she said, trying to smile. If they were going to have to deal with such a crap situation, they were going to do it as themselves, she promised herself, and not as some whiny, melodramatic Movie-of-the-Week couple.

"I love you, Jody, and I'll never stop," Frank told her, trying to return her smile. "Besides, considering my cholesterol count and how much I drink, I might just go first."

And now that the obligatory quips had been exchanged, the two of them shared their kiss. Then they rose from their chairs and left the doctor's office.

SPOILIN' FOR A FIGHT

THEN

After several more days of riding, the quartet finally arrived in the region that Leah had referred to as Ramath Lehi, several miles from the Sea of Galilee. There were mountains that rose majestically in the distance with warrens of caves in them, and that was where they were headed.

As they dismounted and the men tied the horses to nearby olive trees, Gail bounced up and down on her feet, trying to wake up her sleeping rear end. Her legs were jelly, and as soon as her butt was less numb, it was going to be sore. Actually, it was a good thing she'd ridden side-saddle this whole time; otherwise, her thighs would have been sore, too. She had no idea how people had done this all the time, back in the day. She looked at Cas and Gabriel with envy. They seemed none the worse for wear. Cas had dismounted nimbly, as usual, and then lifted her down from the saddle. Didn't his body ever get sore?

She felt better when she saw Paul walking back from where they'd tied the horses. He was walking slowly with his legs apart, grimacing.

"Well, hello, Pilgrim," Gail quipped, and Paul looked at her, puzzled. "You're walking like John Wayne," she explained.

"My legs are killing me, and my butt feels like there's a beehive in my pants," he told her, and she laughed. "Oh, you find my pain funny, do you?" he teased her, trying to sound offended.

"Yes!" she said, still laughing. "Misery loves company!"

"Maybe I should just take off these pants and ride side-saddle, like you," he said, nudging her.

"My Kingdom, for a cell phone," Gail joked.

Cas and Gabriel brought the swords over to where the two were standing. "I know you're not used to wielding a weapon of this size," Cas said, handing Gail hers, "but I still want you to have it. When we enter the caves, we'll go single file, and we'll keep you in the middle."

"What are you expecting, Cas?" Paul asked him.

Cas frowned. "Maybe nothing," he replied, squinting off into the distance. "Maybe something."

"Oh. Well, as long as that's clear, then," Paul said dryly. Gabriel's lips twitched. Paul complained of being sore and tired, but Gabe thought the long ride out here after their encounter with Paul's dad had done the young Angel a world of good. He'd had time to turn the incident over in his mind, and now it seemed as though he'd come out the other side of the experience.

"What Cas means is that things have been a little too peaceful," Gabriel remarked. "Back when we were here before, there were rumours that Hell was sending squadrons of Demons to this area, looking for ancient Biblical relics. The jawbone would have been one of those, of course, but it was never found."

"How do you know it was never found?" Gail asked curiously. "How do we know it's not sitting on Crowley's desk right now, being used as a paperweight?"

"Crowley wasn't the King of Hell, then," Cas explained to her. "Hell had no King, and no organizational system. It was merely a fledgling domain at that time, designed to contain the..."

"...Problem children," Gabriel finished for them. "Like Lucifer. He was the worst one, of course, so Dad created the cage for him, and slammed him in there. But then, I guess He felt like He was onto something. That was when He started sending them all to Hell. But they were more like free agents, back then. It wasn't until Crowley got a foothold in the place that they became more like an evil corporation. But, don't get me wrong. The Demons who were roaming around here were ruthless and bloodthirsty. You ever used a sword before, Paul?"

"Naw, man. Not unless you count video games," Paul replied.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Great. "Cas, you lead off, then we'll have Gail behind you, then Paul, then me. OK?"

Cas nodded. That was the order he had been about to suggest.

"Where did the Demons go, then, before God established Hell?" Gail asked.

"They went to the Underworld," Cas told her. "But, we are wasting time, now. Let's go. Remember, we still have to ride back to Saqqara after this."

Gail and Paul moaned simultaneously. "I wonder if I can get a butt transplant, when we get back," Paul said, making her laugh.

When they got closer to the caves, Gabriel said, "We'll need torches. Cas, keep a lookout. Paul, come with me. I'll show you how to make a torch."

As the two men walked off the dirt road to cut down some tree branches, Gail looked up at Cas. He was scanning the area for any signs of danger, but after a moment, he glanced at her. "Yes, my love?"

"I just wanted to tell you how impressive you are," she said to her husband. "Actually, you and Gabriel, both. But, mainly you. I'll have to tell Liz about him when we get back, and she can heap praise on him. But...you're amazing, Cas. I always feel so protected when I'm with you."

"I'm glad," he said. "So you've forgiven me for what happened in the marketplace?"

"Hey, at least you bought me back," she quipped. "Although I wouldn't read anything into that, if I were you."

Cas laughed softly. "Don't worry," he said lightly. "When it comes to who owns who, I'm quite certain it's the other way around."

"If you didn't have to watch out for bad guys, I would kiss you so hard right now that we could hear the guys groaning about it in the future," Gail said, smiling mischievously.

"And if I didn't have to watch out, I would like that very much," Cas said, answering her smile. But even though he had spared her a glance, his eyes still darted around. Gabriel was right. Things were too quiet.

After a time, Gabriel and Paul came back, holding their swords in one hand and flaming torches in the other.

"Congratulate me," Paul said, grinning. "I just earned my Boy Scout badge in torch-making. Oh, and I also learned how to make fire, without matches or a lighter."

"Way to go, Paul," Gail enthused. "You're now an honourary member of the Tom Hanks survivors' club."

"'Wilson'!" he exclaimed, and the two of them laughed.

"Follow me," Cas said, accepting a torch from Gabriel as Paul carefully handed one to Gail. Once they all had their swords and torches in hand, the group entered the cave slowly and cautiously, walking single file.

"It will begin to get very dark in a moment, as we move away from the mouth of the cave," Cas said, his voice echoing lightly off the walls. "We will proceed with care, but I have to warn you, there may be snakes, vermin, or bats. Stay close to me," he told Gail.

Oh, great. It was a good thing Dean wasn't here. Imagine walking around in the dark with only a torch for illumination, and then feeling something wrap around your leg. Or, like in the catacombs, when Chuck had been scared by that rat. Of course, Cas could tame animals, couldn't he? He'd convinced that rat to take off. But then, what about bats? Gail remembered having seen a bat up close, once. She'd been a little girl, playing alone in the schoolyard, and she'd seen something strange in one of the basement windows. So she'd walked over there, and peered down. There had been what at first glance appeared to be a large rat pressed up against the glass, but then, she had noticed the black wings. It looked like the bat had flown into the glass, and stuck there. It appeared to be dead, but its beady eyes were wide open and so was its mouth, and little Gail could swear she saw fangs in there. Plus, the bat looked angry, as if it wanted to come out of there and attack her, and that thin pane of glass was the only thing that was standing in its way. She had run off home, after that.

Bats. Great. Gail didn't appreciate the mental image. Now, she swore she heard the flap and flutter of bat wings, but it was probably just the rustle of their clothes as they advanced deeper into the dark.

Just as Gail was annoyed with Cas for bringing up the subject of bats, Paul was irrationally annoyed at Gail right now, for being a woman. Paul was slightly claustrophobic, and he also hated the idea of all those creatures lurking in the dark. But he was a male, so he wasn't supposed to show it. Gail could look at them with those big doe eyes of hers, and any one of the three of them would be expected to step in front of her and protect her against...well, anything. Must be nice. Maybe Paul should have asked for a female vessel before coming here. But then again, maybe not. On their ride to Hakeem's place to steal the third horse and the swords, Cas had told Paul about Hakeem's proclivities when it came to the women he bought. Nope. No way. Paul would much rather muck out the stables as a male slave than be subjected to that kind of b.s. as a female.

"Don't be scared, Boo. We'll make sure none of those rotten ol' bats get tangled up in your hair. It's a good thing I don't still have my 'fro. Those bats could've made a real nest in there," Paul said, and Gail laughed softly.

She blessed Paul for trying to distract her with humour. Especially now, because as the dark got even darker, she could distinctly hear the flapping of wings. But it was funny; instead of lots of tiny bat wings, it sounded loud and oddly singular, like just one pair of humongous wings, flapping up and down.

"Gabriel," Cas said sharply.

"Yeah, I hear it too, Cas," the Archangel said, and Gail and Paul could hear the tension in their voices. Oh, geez. What did they know?

The quartet moved into an open area, and Cas lifted his torch high. Gail gasped out loud. There was a large humanoid figure standing there on spindly legs, but with claws for hands and big bat wings, flapping behind It. The creature opened its mouth to reveal a number of razor-sharp fangs.

"Oh, HELL, no," Paul breathed. "I didn't sign up for THIS."

"Stay here," Cas instructed Gail. He rushed forward, thrusting his fiery torch at the creature and then stabbing it with his sword.

"How heroic you are, Castiel. How Holy," the Demon sneered. "I've been waiting for you. I could smell the stench of Righteousness approaching."

"What about ME?" Gabriel said, moving forward.

"You? You're of no use to me," the Demon scoffed. "Actually, the way you've behaved over the centuries, you're one of the last Angels I'd call on."

"Hey! At least he's not butt-ugly, like you are!" Paul yelled at the Demon, and Gabriel couldn't help but smirk. "Thanks for sticking up for me, my Nubian friend," Gabe said. "And, speaking of sticking..." He ran forward and joined Cas in the fight.

The Demon was fighting back, roaring loudly and flapping Its wings. One of the wings knocked Cas off his feet, and he went crashing into the wall. Gabriel thrust his burning torch at the Demon's other wing and scorched it, and the creature bellowed in pain, the sound echoing off the cave walls.

"That's our cue, Boo," Paul said to Gail, and the two of them ran forward, torches and swords flailing.

The monster fought all four of them for a few minutes, but then the quartet started to get the upper hand. As they stabbed the Thing, It oozed black goo, and then eventually, It fell to Its knees, and Gabriel cut off Its head.

"Let's light this guy's fire," the Archangel said to the others. "Just to make sure." They all applied the fire from their torches to Its shell, and the whole thing went up like dry tinder, leaving only ashes.

They all stood there for a moment, panting from their exertions. Finally, Gail said, "Wow. If that's what passes for a bat around here, I don't want to see a snake, or a rat."

Cas smiled grimly. "Are you all right, my love?" he asked her.

"Never mind me; what about you?" she responded. "That thing threw you pretty hard."

Cas shrugged. "I actually got off fairly easily. If there had not been four of us, It would have been far more difficult to kill. That was one of the ancient Demons; a member of Legion."

"Geez, give me the bastards with the black eyes and human forms anytime," Paul said, shuddering. "And before you guys say anything, I realize the irony of what I just said."

"No irony here," Gabriel said firmly. "The past is the past. You're one of the good guys now. End of story."

"Look," Cas said now, lifting his torch. He was pointing to the wall of the cave, where the Demon had thrown him. He had minimized it to Gail, but Cas was feeling a sharp pain between his shoulder blades, and now, he saw why.

There was a Byzantine cross hanging from the cave wall. Cas must have struck its sharp edge.

"There's another one over there, and another, on the opposite side," Gabriel pointed out. "Seems a little convenient, don't you think?"

"Wait a minute. I've seen this, in a video game," Paul piped up.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Again, with the video games? We're in 2500 BC, and you're talking about a video game?"

But Cas was looking around the chamber they were standing in, now. "If we're in the right place, Leah spoke of the 'Sacred Pit'. But I don't see anything like that." He looked at Paul. "What did you see, in your video game?"

"You have to turn the crosses, either clockwise or counter-clockwise, and a wall opens up," Paul responded. "But you have to do it simultaneously, or it won't work."

"Then let's try that," Cas said. "We've got nothing to lose."

Gail wasn't so sure. In the movies, there were always weird things that happened in these types of places. What if they turned those crosses the wrong way? Would they release a dragon, or would some sharp spikes come out of the walls, impaling them all? Or had she just seen too many of Dean's damn action movies?

Cas must have been thinking along those same lines, because he said, "Why don't the three of you each take a cross, then, and we'll see what happens? I will stand guard with my weapon, just in case."

His companions moved to stand beside the crosses, and Paul said, "Clockwise?"

"No. Counter-clockwise," Gabriel said.

"What do you say, my darling?" Cas asked Gail. "You're the tie-breaker."

Great. Fiery dragon death, here we come, she thought. Eeny, meenie, miney..."Counter-clockwise," she said.

They all turned their crosses to the left. Gail felt a click, and suddenly, the stone floor of the cave opened up, across from where they were standing.

"There you go. One Sacred Pit," Paul said, pleased with himself. He let go of his cross, but as soon as he did, the fissure started to close.

"It looks like you'll all have to hold your positions," Cas said, as Paul hurried back. "I will descend into the pit, and see what I can see."

"Be careful, sweetie," Gail said, her forehead wrinkling with concern.

"I will," he assured her. He peered down into the crevice, then slipped into it and disappeared.

After a tense few minutes, they saw Cas's sword appear. He hoisted himself up onto the lip of the crevice holding his weapon in one hand, and part of a skull in the other. They waited until he was fully out of the crevice and standing on his feet, and then all three of his companions rushed over to him.

"Where's your torch?" Gabriel asked him.

"I doused it," Cas replied. "Once I saw the jawbone, I didn't need it any more. I thought it was far more important to keep my sword at the ready."

"Is that it? Really?" Gail said with awe, eyeing the jawbone he held in his hand.

"Yes, it's the genuine article," Cas replied. "Now, let's hurry and leave this place, before any other creatures show up."

They left the cave, with no further incident. Then they rode the horses to the Sea of Galilee, to give them a drink. Gail washed her face and hands in the water, making nervous jokes about baptism as Gabriel laughed.

A short while later, they began the long ride back. But they were in high spirits, because half of their mission was now complete.

NOW

Michelle Delacroix was excited. She was finally going to go to France. Paris, to be exact. She'd been wanting to go there all her life. It was the perfect destination for her. Art, culture, good food, great wine. Boutiques. And as a bonus, she spoke French. Perhaps it was a slightly fractured, Creole version of the language, but it was French all the same.

Her plan was to combine business with pleasure. The Delacroix name still held some cachet in certain circles, and ever since Michelle had opened up her Rape Crisis centre, she'd been making the rounds at cocktail parties and hosting some fundraisers, trying to get the wealthy families in New Orleans to open up the purse strings. Then she'd expanded to other cities in the state, and then some surrounding states. But you could only beat so many bushes until you had to expand your scope.

So she had called in a couple of markers, and she'd been able to set up a fancy fund-raising dinner and auction in Paris, for the city's most elite, high-profile citizens. She'd already received confirmations from celebrities, socialites, and the leaders of three of the major political parties. Paris was set to elect a new President in the spring, and right now, the candidates were out there, pressing the flesh. And there was no better photo op for a male politician than to be photographed at a fundraiser for a centre that provided shelter and counselling for women who had been assaulted. Paris was the city of romance, and all three of the leading male candidates had made it well known that any sort of violence against women was unacceptable, and would not be tolerated by their administration.

Autumn in the City of Lights. Michelle couldn't wait.

"Linda, I'd like you to meet my grandparents, Milo and Nanette. This is the lady I told you about. Paul's fiancee, Linda," Henri said, smiling.

Handshakes were exchanged, and the four Angels sat down in the parlour of the couple's house in Heaven. Like most abodes there, it was modelled after the place where they'd been happiest on Earth; their modest house in Toronto, Canada. Before the War, and the terrible things that had happened overseas.

"Linda wanted to meet the two of you, because I talk about you so often," Henri continued. "We were going to wait until Paul got back, but - "

" - But I'm going stir crazy, worrying about him," Linda finished. "No e-mails or texting, in 2500 BC."

"Henri told us about that," Nanette said, shaking her head slowly. "Time travel. It's so hard to imagine. In our day, there weren't even such things as computers, or cellular phones. It all seems so unreal."

No kidding, Linda thought. In one of those paradoxes that Heaven seemed to feature on a regular basis, Henri's grandparents looked like themselves, but the World War II version of themselves. On the other hand, Henri looked exactly the same as he had when he had died. Therefore, his grandparents looked younger than he did. Ah, the mysteries of the Afterlife.

"I meant to tell you what I saw, on that computer you gave us," Milo said to his grandson.

Henri was amused. "Ummm...is there any way you can narrow that down, Grandpop?"

"Don't smart off to me, Boy," Milo said irritably. "Here, I wrote it down."

As Henri debated whether he should tell his grandfather that the purpose of having a computer was so that you didn't have to write things down any more, Milo produced the piece of paper. "I know how you've been following Parisian politics, and after your experiences with Cas and the others there, I thought I would take a look. And, you know what I found?"

"No. What?" Henri inquired.

"One of the political parties that's got a strong lead right now is the Far Right, La Partie Nationale Patriotique," Milo said, frowning.

"Yes, I know, Grandpop," Henri replied patiently. He looked at Linda. "The Patriotic National Party."

"You know, believe it or not, I could have figured that out on my own," she said sassily, and Nanette laughed.

Milo's lips twitched briefly at that, but he went on, "I see what you were talking about, Henry. I looked on the Google, and did some research. There are a few other, smaller nations in Europe that have elected Far Right governments in recent months, and their leaders have stated that they will fully support the PNP Party, should they come into power. And some of these leaders have suggested that if France goes Far Right, it will become the new Roman Empire."

Henri frowned deeply, but Linda inquired, "What does that mean, exactly?"

Milo was silent for a moment, and then he said, "The leader of the PNP is a charismatic, older gentleman. He is very charming and urbane. A bit of a playboy, by all accounts. But, the French like that sort of thing in their male leaders. Although, conversely, not in their female leaders."

"Oh, don't even get me started on THAT double standard," Nanette said sharply, and Linda nodded her approval. Henri made a mental note to bring Gail over sometime, to meet his Grand'mere. He had a feeling they would be kindred spirits.

"Anyway," Milo continued, unperturbed by the interruption, "this man, Benoit is his name, has the French citizens all riled up about terrorism. I'm not necessarily saying he's wrong. We all know about the losses those poor people have suffered. But, I question the way he's going about his business. His staff is mostly young and clean-cut, and they all rhapsodize about how this Benoit is going to eliminate terrorism. They have slogans like France First, Protection For The French, France Strong, Strength At The Borders, and Execute The Terrorists, Not The Citizens."

Henri winced. "Those last two are a little harsh, aren't they?"

"Of course they are," Milo said mildly. "But that's the way the tide is turning. People are fed up with feeling afraid to walk down the street, or go anywhere that there might be a large gathering of people. Might be we all know something about that," he added, looking at his wife. Nanette's lips pursed tightly. Yes, she certainly did. It was a quick walk to the store that had sent her here to Heaven in the first place.

"We'll have to keep an eye on the situation, then," Henri said decisively. "Benoit, eh? What's his last name? His background?"

"I don't really know," Milo replied vaguely. "I tried to find out more about him, but my computer got stuck, so I just turned it off."

Henri smiled. He couldn't help it. It was funny how the older generation were so afraid of modern technology, sometimes. Well, it could have been worse. At least his Grandpop hadn't thrown the thing out. "It probably just froze, because you were pushing too many keys at once," Henri said helpfully. "I can take a look at it for you."

"In a while," Milo said, looking at Linda. "I want to visit with our guest, first. Have you made any wedding plans, Linda?"

"Not yet," she replied. "I'm just waiting for Paul to get back, and then we can discuss it more. Gabriel said they'll all probably need a week or so to recover, though. Apparently, a trip of that magnitude can really take its toll."

"I can just imagine," Nanette said, smiling. "I used to get exhausted just driving from Toronto to Hamilton."

Henri smiled inwardly. His grandparents may look young, but they acted like grandparents, all right. Only a grandmother could equate a car ride with travelling back in time.

Linda's mind was wandering now. Paul and the others had been gone for nearly two weeks. How were things going? And how long before she should start getting concerned?

Benoit was having a staff meeting, strategizing for his campaign. Now that he'd won his party's leadership and handpicked the individuals he wanted for his team, he wanted to make sure to use the people he'd taken from Vincent's compound to their full potential. He and Dr. Roarke had brought eight of them back to Paris, and they had been with him ever since. He paid the seven adults handsomely to work on his staff, and had set them up in lush accommodations. And, the little boy? He was arguably the most powerful of them all, and he was living in Benoit's own mansion, having the time of his young life. The adoption papers were being drawn up right now, so that the sob story Benoit was concocting for the press would have a paper trail to back it up.

The campaign was heating up, but Benoit was confident that his time had finally arrived. Next spring, he would be President of France, and then the Master Plan could begin.

FROM THE BURIAL GROUND

THEN

When the four of them arrived back in the town, the horses needed to rest, and Cas and Gabriel wanted to talk strategy.

Saqqara was only a couple of hours' ride due north of the town, so the timing didn't concern the men as much as what they might encounter, when they got there.

"What's the deal with Anubis?" Paul asked, frowning. "He can't be worse than that bat-thing we faced down in the cave."

"Uh...you know he's an Egyptian God, right?" Gabriel said dryly.

"So, what's that mean, exactly?" Paul persisted.

"It means that he has powers, and we have none," Cas said bluntly. "It means that he stands about ten feet tall, with claws, sharp teeth, and a bad attitude. His sole purpose is to protect the pyramid from intruders, such as ourselves. Our swords will be mere pinpricks to Anubis."

"Great. Just great," Paul fumed. "Then, what are we supposed to do?"

"Make him angry," Cas replied matter-of-factly. "Fight him, hit him, and hurt him. Threaten him with annihilation. Then, if none of that works, we will tell them that God the Father will destroy the Underworld if he does not allow us safe passage out of the Pyramid."

"Oh, well, if that's the big threat, why wouldn't we just lead off with that?" Paul asked, confused.

"Because it's a straight bluff," Cas said calmly. "We have to make it sound as if God will really do that, as a last resort. But, He will not, of course. The Father is no longer in Heaven, and Bobby Singer cannot destroy the Underworld."

"OK, genius," Gabriel said to Cas sarcastically. "What if he calls the bluff? What do we do then?"

Cas smiled grimly. "I'm fully expecting him to call our bluff. That's when I'll show him this." He opened the bag that was dangling from his waist, revealing the jawbone.

Gail was puzzled. "But...isn't that supposed to come back with us to our time, so you can kill Raguel with it?"

"Of course it is," Cas replied, "but Anubis will not know that. However, as soon as he sees it, he will call for assistance. At least, that is what I'm banking on."

"Assistance?" Paul echoed, his eyes narrowing.

Gabriel was starting to smile. "You wouldn't happen to be talking about a certain sibling of his?"

Cas nodded. "Exactly. He will call on Ammit. She will come to his aid, and I will cut off her claws. I will kill her with one of her own talons, and Gabriel will kill Anubis with the claw of Bathshear that Leah gave me." He reached into his tunic and took off the necklace, handing it to the surprised Archangel. "Try to retain that, if you can," Cas told Gabe. "It's of sentimental value to her."

"And what will WE be doing, while you two are being the Dynamic Duo?" Paul asked.

"Gail will be taking down the Pyramid Texts," Cas answered him, reaching into the pocket of his pantaloons for an etching instrument. He handed it to her. "You might have the most difficult job of all, my love. You will have to etch the markings, exactly as they appear, onto a piece of stone that we can bring back with us for translation."

"Terrific. I'm the world's first stenographer," she groused. "So much for the glass ceiling."

"Hey, when we first got here, you were mistaken for a member of the world's oldest profession," Gabriel said with a grin. "So I'd say that's a step up, wouldn't you?"

Gail gave him a baleful look. "What do I etch the Texts ON?"

"We'll find a nice, flat stone for you, nearer to the Pyramid," Cas said, smiling at the look on his wife's face. If Cas knew Gail well, and he did, Cas was sure that she was extremely anxious to get back to the present time. Truth be told, so was Cas. There were way too many perils here that he couldn't protect her from. And, speaking of which... "Paul, you will have the most important job of all," Cas continued. "I would like you to stand guard over Gail, just in case we receive any other surprise visitors. Can you do that for me, please?"

"Yeah, sure, Cas," Paul replied softly. "Sure I will."

Shortly afterwards, the four of them started off for Saqqara.

NOW

Vincent was sitting in Becky's living room drinking coffee, waiting for her to change her outfit. Ever since the two of them had met in the studio the day of her cover shoot, Becky had come to look on him as a father figure of sorts. He'd discovered that she was a mainly sweet girl with patches of sour, who had limited intelligence, and seemed to believe that the world revolved around her, and her needs. Actually, Vincent could completely relate to that part of her personality. What he couldn't stand about her was how empty-headed she was. When Becky had first invited Vincent to her home and gone upstairs to change, as she was doing now, he had meandered around her living room, looking idly at the wooden bookshelf standing in one corner. At least, the structure was supposed to be used for books. But Becky had stacks of magazines on the shelves, a few knick-knacks, several framed photos, and exactly one book. Vincent had stared at it, astonished, and then taken it down from the shelf, holding it almost reverently. Rowena's spell book. He hadn't seen it for centuries. What on earth was bubble-headed Becky doing with it? She had a gold mine right here, at her fingertips.

So he had asked the girl about it when she'd come downstairs, and Becky had sheepishly advised that she had tried one of the spells in it, with no result. Then she had shown him the page in question, blushing a little.

Vincent had looked closely at the page, and then he'd rolled his eyes. "What's this?" he'd said, pointing to the ingredient she'd messed up. Becky told him what she'd actually bought instead of what she should have obtained, and Vincent had laughed until tears had come to his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so amused. So he'd decided to proceed with his plan. It didn't really matter if Becky was stupid. She was only a means to an end, anyway. Besides, he liked the fact that she was self-centered, obsessive, and gullible. That was just the combination of traits he could work with. He'd encouraged Becky to tell him about her adventures in the modelling world, and Vincent had learned to his delight that Becky wasn't above a little backstabbing to get what she wanted. Worked for him.

She came downstairs now, wearing one of the outfits that Vincent had picked out for one of her cover shoots. He'd taken over as her manager, and he'd successfully negotiated a deal for Becky that included a higher salary, and the option to keep the clothes she'd worn in the magazine photos.

Becky was wearing tight jeans, and a crop top that showed just a little creamy skin, right around her belly button. She'd also re-applied the bright red lipstick he'd suggested. Vincent looked at her approvingly. She was so young, so fresh. Sam Winchester was about to be a very lucky man. Or, so he would believe.

"Come sit down beside me, honey," Vincent said, and Becky joined him on the couch. "You look very pretty."

Becky smiled. "Thanks. I can't wait for Sam to see me on the cover. You and Rick made me look hot."

"So what's the plan, Becky?" Vincent asked her. "What's going to happen after he sees you on that magazine? IF he sees you on that magazine."

Her smile faltered. "What do you mean, 'if' he sees me?"

Vincent smirked. "Let's face it; the Winchesters aren't the kind of guys who hang around magazine racks, checking out the latest fashions."

Becky knew that, but..."There are a lot of people who know me," she protested vaguely. "Somebody will see me, and they'll show him." But even as she was saying it, Becky realized that might never happen. A lot of their mutual acquaintances were Angels, and Becky was out of the loop now.

Vincent sighed internally. You could lead an airhead to water, but you couldn't make her think. "And once Sam sees you looking all cute and sexy on the cover of your magazine, what then?"

Becky's lipsticked mouth opened, and then closed again. Truthfully, she had only thought as far as that goal. "I don't know," she admitted.

"Let me help you out, Becky," Vincent said magnanimously. "Money and a dream job are great, but you've got to have love in your life, too. Am I right?" As she nodded, he took her hand. "I'm going to help you get Sam."

"But, how?" Becky wailed. "Even if I get the love potion right next time, I don't know how I'd even give it to him. I can't really hang around the bunker any more, not without a reason. And he and Dean are on the road a lot, anyway."

"We'll figure something out," Vincent said. He pretended to think for a moment. "What do you think Sam wants most of all, Becky? What's the most important thing to him?"

"Dean," she replied without hesitation. "Family."

"Family," Vincent mused out loud. Then he started to smile. "I think we can work with that."

THEN

On the ride to the Royal Pyramid at Saqqara, Gail asked Cas about his prior references to the Underworld.

"Yeah, I was wondering about that, too," Paul remarked, riding up closer to the couple so that he could hear. "How come I've never heard about it before?"

"Because, as realms go, it's more legend than reality," Cas replied. "I believe that it does exist in some form, but if it does, no soul has ever come back from it. The ancient Egyptians believed that that was where their souls went after they died, and they were of the belief that the people and possessions they were buried with would follow them to the Afterlife."

"How does the Underworld differ from the Netherworld?" Gail asked, still puzzled.

Cas and Gabriel exchanged glances. "We're not really sure," Gabriel said, taking up the narrative. "We think Dad meant the Netherworld to be more like Heaven. Think: deluxe accommodations at the Waldorf. That's why only the elite were supposed to go there, as a reward for exemplary service to Heaven. But somewhere along the line, it became a sterile, kind of bastardized version of what God intended it to be."

"It IS very drab and colourless there," Cas confirmed. "To exist there alone is more like Hell than an eternal reward." He took the horse's reins in one hand and slipped the other arm around Gail's waist, giving her a gentle squeeze. Cas would never forget when he had been there, and Gail had told him that Death had brought her to the house in which he had resided. Cas hadn't even known who she was. But he remembered the terrible, empty feeling of leading a loveless, meaningless existence there.

Gail remembered that too, of course. She would never forget. She pressed Cas's arm closer to herself, as if to reassure herself that he was still right there with her.

They rode on in silence until they got to the part of the desert where the King's Pyramid was. Gail was used to seeing triangular pyramids from their trip to modern-day Egypt, but this particular structure was more cone-like in its appearance. It looked just as vast in scope as the others she'd been to, but the fact that there was nothing and no one else in sight made it seem more forbidding, somehow.

There was nothing to tie the horses to, just flat, dusty sand, and stones. So Cas spoke softly to the horses, telling them to stay calm, and wait for the group to return.

While he was doing that, the others fanned out, looking for a slab of stone that Gail could use to etch the markings on. Paul pried one out of a sand dune and showed it to Gabriel. "Yeah, that should do it," the Archangel said, clapping Paul on the shoulder. The younger Angel grinned. He'd actually grown pretty fond of Gabriel. The four of them had spent a considerable amount of time together by now, and Paul felt closer to all of them, as a result. Gabriel and Paul were actually a lot more alike than it might seem on the surface. Both men covered the certain so-called "un-manly" feelings they had with bluster and bravado. But Paul had noticed that there was a lot more to Gabriel than advertised. When he needed to, Gabe could take care of business. He and Cas made a pretty formidable team. Paul had even warmed to Cas a little; although the two of them would never be what Paul would consider friends, exactly, he had respect for Cas, and that was just as important. Paul had thought that seeing his father again might reawaken the feelings of resentment he'd had towards Cas for Raphael's murder, but somewhat paradoxically, it had turned out to be just the opposite. The version of Raphael that had supported the Apocalypse would never have been allowed to live. Paul knew that, now. The father Paul had known had been an arrogant dick of a man, and if Paul was to be dead honest with himself, that version of Raphael was someone he didn't miss.

And then, there was the way that Cas and Gail were together. Now that Paul and Linda had fallen in love and were engaged, Paul understood Cas and Gail a lot better. He'd always liked Gail, even when he'd been a free agent for Hell, playing both sides against the middle. She was small but she was spunky, and she made it clear that she would take crap from no man. Not Lucifer, not Crowley, not even Castiel. Paul felt as if he and his little Boo were coming from the same place, even though they were basically diametric opposites, in a lot of ways. In fact, the first time they had met, they had joked about that song by John Lennon, the one that stated that a woman was the "N-word" of the world. And, as they had both experienced in the marketplace when the four of them had first gotten here, that notion definitely had merit.

Paul saw the tender and solicitous way that the couple were with each other, and it had softened his heart a little. He knew that Linda thought highly of the both of them, and of Gabriel, too. And Paul thought highly of Linda's opinion. She wasn't the sort of woman who held a lot of people in great esteem, not unless they had earned it.

"What do you think, Boo?" Paul said, handing the stone to Gail. "Is that a good enough steno pad for you?"

"Sure, why not? I've had tons of experience carving things into stone," she quipped.

The men all grabbed their swords, and the three torches they had brought back from the cave. Gail had the stone in one hand, and the etcher in the other. Cas had said that keeping the stone intact was the most important thing. After she had recorded the Texts, he wanted her holding the stone with both hands, so it didn't break. Gail could see the sense in that, but she also knew that if she saw one of her companions needing her help, calligraphy would have to take a back seat.

"Ready?" Gabriel said. "Let's go see the King."

NOW

Casey logged on to his computer to check the site, just like he'd done every day for a month now. Once he'd opened up the screen to see the bids, his heart sank with disappointment. No activity since last time, and in fact, a couple of bids had been removed. It didn't look like there was anybody who was seriously interested in purchasing what he was trying to sell. Maybe it was just too hard for people to believe that it was actually Blackbeard's skull up for bids, or maybe they just didn't care.

At first, Casey had intended to just keep the thing in his room, as a conversation piece. He didn't really even know if it was authentic or not, but he definitely couldn't rule it out. Maybe it would even help him with the girls. There must be some chicks who would think that was pretty badass. He'd checked Google, and there were stories that suggested if you drank out of the thing, something magical would happen.

But before he'd had the chance to find out, Casey's brother Greg had come to his big brother's room, crying because their mom had told him that there wasn't enough money to send him to college. Casey had known there was no chance for HIM to go to college, even if he'd wanted to, but he'd had higher hopes for Greg. His younger brother was extremely smart. Like, brilliant, change-the-world smart. But they were just an average family, with a modest income.

Then Casey got to thinking. He'd seen all kinds of things up for sale on eBay, some of the more unusual items going for pretty hefty amounts. So he'd told Greg he was going to see what he could do, and he'd listed the skull. But so far, the bidding hadn't exactly been fast and furious. Casey sighed. He guessed he was gonna have to tell Greg to forget it.

But, wait: what was this, now? A bid from Lebanon, Kansas came in as Casey had been staring at the screen. Lebanon? What the hell kind of name was that, for someplace in America? Casey minimized the screen and looked the place up. Yeah, there it was, all right. He went back to look at the bid. Now, he was in business. It was high enough that he would have to take it seriously. So he e-mailed user name Necromancer, telling the bidder that if he, or she, was serious, they could talk.

Vincent sat back in the chair, grinning. At around this same time tomorrow, he would have the genuine article in his hands. He had sweetened the bid to include the cost of overnight shipping, and given the kid Becky's address. He'd been spending so much time at her place lately that he might as well be living there.

The fact that he had been cheated out of the skull had been gnawing away at Vincent. He didn't like to lose, and it rankled him to think that they were all laughing at him. His relationship with Becky would provide the vehicle for Vincent to have the last laugh, but still, he hadn't been satisfied. Vincent wasn't the type of man who handled delayed gratification very well. So, until he orchestrated Becky and Sam's date, Vincent was determined to take possession of the skull and have the vision that he had been denied. There were still the Coffin Texts to find, and the Book of Life, too.

Becky had taken Vincent's story at face value. He had told her that he was sending away for a magical object that was going to help her land Sam for good. And while that wasn't directly true, Vincent was going to help her hook up with Sam anyway, because it suited Vincent's purposes to do it.

"Do you want another cup of coffee?" Becky asked him now.

"No, I think we need something a bit stronger," Vincent said affably. "We need to drink a toast, to you and Sam, hooking up."

Becky giggled. She still wasn't exactly sure how Vincent's plan was supposed to work, but she trusted him. He was being so nice, to help her like this. He said he understood how painful it was to love somebody who didn't seem to love you back, and he had touched the black mark on his face when he'd said that. It was too bad; for an older guy, Vincent would have been pretty good-looking, if it wasn't for that mark. Becky wondered how he'd gotten it, but she didn't quite have the nerve to ask him. But just the fact that he cared enough about her to want to see her happy made Becky feel affection for him.

She went to the kitchen to get a bottle of wine.

THEN

Anubis lifted his head and roared, and the sound was deafening, bouncing off the walls of the tomb.

Gail grimaced, but she didn't dare stop what she was doing. She was about three-quarters through the Texts, and Cas had yelled at her to keep going. Paul was standing guard beside her, holding his torch up so she could make out the markings on the Pyramid's wall.

Gabriel and Cas had been fighting Anubis for a while now, and the Egyptian God had barely suffered a scratch, from what Gail had been able to discern. She'd kept looking nervously behind her to where the men were fighting the enormous dog-faced creature, but Paul had urged her to concentrate on the markings. They all had a job to do here, and she'd better do hers, he'd said. So Gail had resumed, but not before eliciting Paul's promise that he would get over there and join the fight, if it looked like the guys were in trouble.

So as Gail was etching the symbols as quickly as she could, Paul had been giving her a play-by-play description of the fight, sort of like a sports announcer would. She would have to remember to find that funny, once they all got out of here. And it was going exactly the way that Cas had predicted it would. They had engaged with, then annoyed, and then enraged Anubis. And when Cas had told the creature that God was going to destroy the Underworld if Anubis didn't stand down, the Egyptian God had laughed.

"You're bluffing, Castiel," It had said scornfully. How was it that everyone seemed to know her husband? Gail had wondered.

Cas had insisted, but Anubis wasn't taking the bait. So then, Cas had shown It Samson's weapon, and that was when Anubis had bellowed.

It wasn't anger that had prompted the cry; it was fear. The legendary jawbone was the only weapon save for a Demon God's claw that could kill him, Anubis realized. So he had bellowed out loud, then shouted some words in ancient Sumerian, asking for assistance.

To Castiel's surprise, not one, but two beings popped into the tomb.

"You summoned for my help, brother?" Ammit said. She looked at the Angels, and her jaw dropped open. Angels? What were THEY doing here? Ammit had the head of a dog, as well. There was no need to take a vessel for family.

But Castiel and Gabriel barely registered that fact, because it was the other individual whose sudden appearance had paralyzed the men with shock.

"You bellowed, Anubis?" Metatron said dryly.

NOW

They were on their second glass of wine now, and Vincent felt like Becky was relaxed enough for him to do his thing. So he took her hand and said, "Look into my eyes, Becky. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah, I do," she responded.

"And do you trust that I know what's best for you?" he pressed her.

"Yes," she replied, and her eyes widened. Vincent was mesmerizing her now. It was a talent he'd pretty much had all his life, but when he'd been ordained as a Voodoo Priest, Vincent had elevated it to an art form. There was a reason he'd fathered so many children. He started to stroke Becky's arm with one long finger now, up and down, and up and down. She glanced down at what he was doing, and Vincent squeezed her hand painfully. "Look into my eyes," he said sharply.

Becky did, and her pupils began to dilate. "You're a virgin, aren't you, honey?" he said softly.

"I'm waiting for Sam," Becky stated tonelessly. "I only want to be with Sam."

Vincent nearly rolled his eyes, but he had her now, and he didn't want to break the connection. But, he couldn't believe what an idiot she was. Becky was young, cute, and round in all the right places. She could be out there, leading men around by their private parts, getting anything she wanted. But instead, she was living here like a nun, saving it for a guy who didn't even want it. Vincent held no particular feeling for Sam Winchester one way or the other, but Gail's father knew that Sam would never be interested in being Becky's boyfriend. She was way too stupid for the likes of Sam. And she was also way too stupid to KNOW that she was too stupid for Sam.

"You must really love him," Vincent went on, and Becky smiled warmly. "Yeah, I do," she acknowledged. "I've loved him for years."

"But you also have needs," Vincent said silkily, moving his hand further up her arm. "It must be frustrating sometimes."

"Yeah, it is, sometimes," Becky said sadly. "I used to let Chuck kiss me once in a while, but that was it. Kevin and I used to make out, too, but when he tried to talk me into doing it, I said no. We came close once, though. He was at my place in Heaven, and he was French kissing me, and he had his hands under my top. I had my eyes closed, pretending he was Sam. But then he talked, and he wrecked it. So I told him to leave, and then we broke up."

Vincent was touching her breast lightly now, and Becky merely smiled. She was probably picturing Sam right now. Actually, Vincent could have done a quick spell to change his own appearance to that of Sam Winchester's, if he'd been serious about seducing Becky. But that would be just like taking a diaper off of a baby. Or at least, Vincent imagined that it would. As if he would ever do something that disgusting. But the analogy still held. If Vincent had put Sam's face on, Becky would break a speed record laying back and putting her legs up in the air. But Vincent's intention was merely to prime the pump right now. Plant the seed, so to speak.

"You've been overthinking this whole thing, Becky," Vincent said, trying to keep a straight face. His hand went between her legs. "All you have to do is open these up for him. Do it, honey." Becky spread her legs, and Vincent rubbed her gently through her jeans. "You can close your eyes now," he told her, and she did. Vincent took her hand and put it on himself. "This is what you need to do, right here," he exhorted her. "You're way too stupid to get Sam, but if you open your legs for him, and do all those things you've read about online..."

Becky's eyes flew open, and she frowned. "But even if we go to bed together, then what?" she asked Vincent. She tried to take her hand back, but he grabbed it with his other hand and held it against his crotch, squeezing her painfully again. She winced.

"I'll tell you when you can stop," Vincent said coldly. "You need all the practice you can get." He pushed against her hand, and Becky whimpered. "Oh, don't do that," Vincent said irritably. "It's bad enough that you're an idiot; don't be a whiner, too. If you want to get Sam, you have to be a selfish bitch. You have to go big, Becky."

"How? What do you mean?" Becky asked him. Vincent was pleased to hear that the pleading, whiny tone had gone out of her voice. She sounded more...interested, now. Calculating, even. That was more like it.

He took his hand away from her, telling her that she could stop touching him now. That had been fun, but Vincent had a point to make.

"You're going to give him a potion, you're going to take him to bed, and when you wake up in the morning, you're going to be pregnant with Sam Winchester's baby," Vincent told her, smiling.

THEN

"Metatron!?" Cas exclaimed. "What are YOU doing here?"

Gail's head snapped up. WHAT? They had to be kidding her with this! Metatron was dead. Lucifer had killed him. But this was 2500 BC, not the present day. Of course Metatron would be alive in this day and age. But why was he here now? She continued to etch, but Gail urged Paul to keep her apprised of what he was seeing. If Metatron showed any signs of aggression, it would be on.

"I'm God's Scribe, Castiel," Metatron said mildly, as if it should be obvious. "I'm the one who Father entrusted with the official written accounts of the Underworld, and its denizens. Anubis called out for my help, because I'm his creator."

"You didn't create squat," Gabriel said angrily. "Dad did."

"Gabriel," Metatron said, smiling indulgently at the Archangel. I'm surprised to see you here. Shouldn't you be out there somewhere, drunk on wine and chasing girls? I'm our Father's proxy. It's me who should be asking the two of you what YOU'RE doing here."

"Castiel has the jawbone," Anubis said, looking at his sister. "Be very careful."

"Jawbone?" Ammit echoed. "What jawbone?"

But Metatron's eyebrows had shot up to his hairline. "THE jawbone?" he said, astonished. "Samson's weapon?" He started to smile. "That's excellent. Hand it over, Castiel."

Cas smiled grimly. "That will never happen."

"Oh, no?" Metatron said, continuing to smile. "We'll see about that." He waved his hands, and both Gabriel and Cas went flying across the chamber. "I thought so," he said smugly. "They have no powers here," Metatron told the Egyptian God and Demon Goddess. He pointed to Cas. "Fetch," he said to Ammit. "There's a good doggie."

She glared at him, but Ammit went over to where Cas lay, dazed from the attack. She bent down and opened the bag, removing the jawbone.

"Bring it to me," Metatron ordered her, and Ammit frowned again. "Do it," he said sharply. "I could write you and your brother right out of existence. I could subject you to a thousand tortures, each more agonizing than the last."

Ammit glanced at her brother, and Anubis gave her a brief nod. She walked over to where Metatron stood, handing him the jawbone.

Paul told Gail what he was seeing, but she'd already heard. She had been etching furiously, trying to finish. She had the feeling that if she didn't get it all down now, she wouldn't be allowed to finish. Metatron had ignored her and Paul so far, that that wouldn't continue for much longer. She was going to have severe writers' cramp after this. Two more symbols, and...

"Done!" she said. "Here. Put this in your pocket. We've got to help Cas and Gabriel!" She shoved the stone at Paul and ran over to the main chamber. He put it in the pocket of his pantaloons and rushed after her, hoping the weight of the stone wasn't going to pull his pants down to his ankles.

But now, Gail was wondering what the hell she was supposed to do, once she got there. She had no powers and no weapon, not unless she counted the etching tool she still had in her hand. Maybe she could poke Metatron with it repeatedly, and annoy him long enough for Cas and Gabriel to figure out what to do.

But she had forgotten: Metatron had no idea who she was. They wouldn't actually meet until thousands of years later. The Scribe didn't know Paul, either. So when the two of them hurried into the main chamber, Metatron saw the fear on Gail's face and misinterpreted it. He made a slight bow.

"I have no quarrel with your servants," he said to Cas and Gabriel in a magnanimous tone. "You two may go," Metatron added, waving his hand at Gail and Paul to dismiss them.

"I don't think so," Gail said stubbornly, and Metatron smiled, but it was a nasty smile. He glanced at Gabriel, who was slowly picking himself up off the floor of the tomb. "Let me help you out, Brother," Metatron went on, and now his voice had a sarcastic tone. He looked at Gail again. "He does not care about you, my dear. He probably told you that you were special, but, you're not. Whatever Gabriel paid you, I'm sure it wasn't nearly enough. Go back to town, and forget about him. I can assure you he's already forgotten about you."

Gail was almost amused. That was right, too; Metatron would have no idea who she was, not in this time. He clearly thought she was a prostitute, just like every other man here did. Geez, Louise. Was that the only profession there WAS for a woman in this day and age? Weren't there any merchants, or nurses, even? Maybe she should cool it a little on the feminism when they got back to their own time. Compared to here, she had every opportunity in the world there. And it was kind of funny that everybody kept talking about Gabriel as if he was Hugh Hefner, or something. Gail knew he had a reputation for being a miscreant, but she'd always thought that it was exaggerated.

But before she got the chance to correct Metatron's assumption, he heaved a sigh. "I can see that you're one of those headstrong ones," he said to her. "Let me save us all the trouble." He snapped his fingers, and she and Paul disappeared.

"What did you do?" Cas said angrily, moving towards Metatron with his sword raised. "Where did you send them?"

"Away," Metatron said vaguely. "I must confess, I'm surprised by your tone, Castiel. You can always buy another slave, and your chivalry is lost on Gabriel's whore." He looked at Anubis. "And now that I have the jawbone in my possession, I will take my leave. You and your sister should be able to make quick work of my Brothers now. They have no jawbone, and they have no celestial powers here, for some reason. Therefore, as the expression goes: 'sic 'em'."

Metatron snapped his fingers again, and then he too disappeared, taking the jawbone with him.

NOW

Vincent and Becky had another glass of wine, smiling at each other as if they were co-conspirators. But in fact, they each had their own agenda. It just so happened that each one of them had a goal, and on the surface, the endgame appeared to be the same.

But underneath, the reality was slightly askew, like a note in a song that was just a tiny bit flat. Becky's first inclination had been to dismiss Vincent's idea as completely crazy. But she'd taken a beat and thought about it, and that brief pause was all she'd needed to sell herself on the idea. Just the thought of finally being able to successfully seduce Sam was heady enough, but to have his baby? Well, that would be the perfect way to show her love for him, wouldn't it?

However dim Becky may be about a lot of things, though, a part of her knew that she should probably seem a little reluctant to pull the trigger on such a plan. Vincent had been so good to help her like this, but if Becky was to get pregnant: "Wouldn't that be the end of my modelling career?" she asked him cautiously. "Then you wouldn't be my manager any more, 'cause as soon as I get fat, there won't be anything to manage."

Vincent took her hand. "Don't worry about that, my dear. I'd like to think I'm more than your manager. I'm your friend. I look on you as a daughter, Becky. I hope that's not too presumptuous," he said charmingly. That was assuming that the stupid bitch knew what a big word like that meant, of course. She thought she was fooling him with this little act of hers. Was she actually trying to convince Vincent that she gave a damn about him, or about her career? Everything was just a means to end for Becky. That was why Vincent was here.

He had his own endgame in mind, of course. But for now, he and Becky were in perfect harmony. "When the skull gets here tomorrow, I'll help you make up the potion for Sam to drink. It'll be a variation of the one you tried to make, but we'll put a little Lust in there, too. After all the time you've spent waiting, we want to make sure that Lover Boy lasts for more than a few minutes, right, honey?" Vincent winked at Becky, and she blushed, but then she giggled, too. "So the two of you will have mad, mad monkey sex, or whatever you kids are into these days. And when you're both laying there in a giant puddle of sweat and other sticky stuff, you'll be pregnant, with a little Sammy Winchester. Then he'll have no choice but to have you in his life."

"But how do we know that I'll get pregnant, from just that one time?" Becky asked him worriedly. "I've heard that sometimes it takes weeks to happen. Months, even."

"Trust me," Vincent said with a grin. "I know about those kinds of things. Leave it to me. We'll make sure to maximize fertility." They certainly would, he thought with great amusement. She should see the look on her face. No wonder Sam stayed far, far away from Becky. Vincent had seen terrorists who were less fanatical. "Maybe he'll propose, once he finds out," Vincent went on, winding Becky up even further. "Isn't he the kind of guy who would do something stupid like that?"

Becky looked at him sharply for a moment, but the hook was even further in, now. She was picturing Sam getting down on one knee, taking a ring box out of his pocket. Of course he would want to do the right thing. Sam was a gentleman. And just in case he needed some gentle prodding, Becky would say how wonderful it would be for their child to grow up with both parents. That kind of situation was all too rare these days. Sam had never had that for himself; didn't he want it for his own child? She was sure he wouldn't need much more convincing than that.

Vincent shook his head slowly. God help poor Sam Winchester. Well, it served the younger Winchester right, for having burned JD's body. They thought they had screwed Vincent and won, but they would soon find out that Vincent was about to screw all of them, and they were all going to lose. Big.

THEN

Anubis looked down at the Angels. Now that Castiel no longer had the jawbone, there should be no problem in killing the both of them. Especially if it was true that they had no celestial powers right now. He could take both on himself, but since Ammit was here now, he saw no reason they both couldn't enjoy the spoils of victory. Once the Angels were dead, he and his sister could inhale their essences, and become that much stronger.

But sibling rivalry was a reality even with ancient creatures, and Anubis wanted the higher-ranking Angel for himself. So he swiped at Gabriel with one long arm, barely missing the Archangel's chest with his sharp claws.

"You're gonna have to do a lot better than that, Fido," Gabriel said sarcastically. "I'm an expert at avoiding peoples' clutches. Just ask any woman in town."

Ammit and Castiel were facing off, and the Angel was eyeing her claws. If he could just get the upper hand, so to speak, he could chop off her hands, and kill her with her own claw. He glanced sideways at Gabriel, who was dodging Anubis and slashing at the Egyptian God with his sword. But he couldn't evade Anubis' claws and teeth forever. Not to mention the fact that Anubis was nearly twice Cas's Brother's size.

"Use your weapon!" Cas yelled, and Gabriel gave him an incredulous look, brandishing his sword. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" Gabriel shouted back.

Cas rolled his eyes. "The weapon I gave you!" he said in an exasperated voice, gesturing to his neck. Ammit lunged at Cas in the meantime, and he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards him as he'd shown Gail how to do, to surprise an attacker. It surprised Ammit too, but she made a quick recovery, snapping at Cas's neck with her sharp teeth and powerful jaws. He gave her a mighty shove and she stumbled, knocking Gabriel to the ground. Anubis loomed over the Archangel. Cas ran over to help him, but Gabriel raised a hand. "I got this, Brother," he said, springing to his feet. "Hey, Bowser!" Gabe yelled up at Anubis. "Heel!"

Anubis bellowed again. He reached down and picked Gabriel up with his huge paws, shaking him vigorously. Gabriel thrust his sword forward into the Egyptian God's snout, making him yelp.

Ammit was distracted now. She'd never heard her brother make that kind of a sound before. She looked up at Anubis, and Cas used the opportunity to grip his sword tightly and swing hard, cutting her claw off at the wrist. She shrieked in rage and pain, leaping at him. But Cas sidestepped her and swung again, cutting off her other hand.

Gabriel was flailing in midair, leaning back from Anubis' snapping jaws. He was swinging his sword blindly, trying to keep Anubis distracted long enough so that he could grab the necklace with Bathshear's claw from under his tunic. He yanked on it, breaking the chain. "Geez, Scooby. You ever heard of a breath mint?" Gabriel quipped, trying to distract Anubis from noticing the claw the Archangel now held in his hand.

Cas picked up one of Ammit's claws and shoved it in the pocket of his pantaloons. He grabbed the other claw and advanced on her, slashing at her with his sword to put her on the defensive. She swiped at him with one bleeding stump and then the other, not seeming to register that she no longer had her claws. Cas stabbed her from the flank side, pulling upwards with the sword to inflict maximum pain. Ammit opened her jaws wide and let out a loud, banshee-like shriek, and Cas lunged forward, ramming the claw he held in his other hand into her eye socket, as hard as he could. She whimpered, falling backwards. Cas drove his sword through her stomach and then dug Ammit's claw deep into her chest. She writhed underneath him, but Cas could see that she was dying, so he yanked the claw out of her chest, holding it in his hand at the ready, in case she made one last attempt to attack.

"I'll be there in a moment to help you, Broth-" Cas shouted over Anubis' angry roar. But he never got a chance to finish his sentence. As Gabriel looked down to the ground, opening up his mouth to congratulate him on the kill, Cas promptly vanished.

"Oh, come on!" Gabriel groaned loudly. Everybody was gonna have to quit disappearing on him. He was starting to take it personally.

Anubis bellowed with rage, shaking Gabriel like a rag doll. The Egyptian God's sister was dead, and this Angel was going to pay.

Gabriel was scared. He'd better take care of business now, or he was going to be Milkbone. "I hope you weren't too offended by that crack about the breath mint," he said with a toothy smile. He gripped the claw tighter, preparing to stab Anubis with it, but Anubis gave him another violent, bone-jarring shake, and the claw flew right out of his hand. Gabriel could hear it clatter on the tomb floor below.

Oh, crap. He was screwed. Gabriel looked skyward. "Is this about that thing in Mesopotamia?" Gabe asked his Father. "'Cause I apologized to her for that. And to her mother, too."

"I'm going to kill you, but I'm going to do it very slowly," Anubis told Gabriel. "Maybe I'll just bite off one body part at a time." It grinned, showing a mouth full of sharp fangs.

Gabriel shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see where on his body Anubis was looking to take the first nibble.

"Put the Angel down," an amused-sounding voice said from the ground. "There's a good doggy."

"They killed my sister!" Anubis protested.

"I know. That's why I'm here," Crowley said, and Gabriel's eyes flew open. Great. This day just kept getting better and better. "Now, put him down," the King of Hell repeated.

Anubis roared, but then he complied, dropping Gabriel from his paw. The Archangel landed with a thud on the tomb floor. Owww. "He said 'put', not 'drop', Wolverine!" Gabe yelled. He looked at Crowley. "You'd better tell me what you're doing here, quick. I'm running out of famous dogs' names. Even that last one was really pushing it."

Crowley smirked. "I believe you dropped something," he said, snapping his fingers. Bathshear's claw reappeared in Gabriel's hand. He looked at Crowley, astonished. But there was no time to lose. Gabe was pretty sure he wouldn't get another chance. Plus, he still had to find the others, wherever they had gone. So he swiped at the tendons on Anubis' ankles with his sword, and when the Egyptian God crashed to the ground, Gabriel drove the claw into Its throat, opening up a large gash. Then he stabbed the claw into the beast's heart, twisting it until Anubis stopped moving.

Crowley snapped his fingers again, and the claw disappeared. "With apologies to the old woman, I'd just as soon you didn't retain that particular weapon," he said to Gabriel dryly. "Bad enough that I arrived too late to get the jawbone."

Gabriel climbed off Anubis and approached Crowley. "Why'd you help me?" he said, mystified.

"I may be a despicable individual, but I'm also a businessman, and I believe in paying my debts," the King of Hell said, shrugging. "You lot did me a huge favour by killing that one." He nodded towards Ammit. "She's been a thorn in my side for centuries. So, I'll throw you a little bonus: Gail and Paul are with Hakeem, as his unwilling guests. The Metatron of this timeline is nearly as rotten as I am. He winked them to the Royal Palace. I'd hurry, if I were you. Apparently, Paul refuses to take orders, and Gail is trying single-handedly to introduce Hakeem's harem of concubines to the concept of Womens' Liberation. I'm sure you can imagine how THAT'S going over."

"Where's Castiel?" Gabe inquired of the King.

"Don't know, don't care," Crowley said tartly. "I said I was here to settle a debt, not grow wings and confess my sins. Off you go, Gabriel. The hour grows late." Then he snapped his fingers again, and he too disappeared.

Aw, geez. Oh, crap, Gabriel thought. I've gotta get those two away from that assclown Hakeem. Cas is gonna kill me. He allowed himself a brief grin, thinking about Paul and Gail in the Palace. Paul telling them that he 'ain't no man's slave', and Gail lecturing Athena and Letitia about the power of feminism. Just the looks on their faces alone would be worth the price of admission. But then, his grin faded. Neither Angel had any powers, and they were vastly outnumbered. Hakeem would likely have Paul chained and whipped, and his little Kitten could only fight so hard for so long.

He rushed over to Ammit's and then back to Anubis's bodies, just to make sure. They were both quite dead. He checked Ammit closely, but Cas must have had the claw he'd killed her with still in his hand when he'd disappeared to...wherever he had gone. Could Gabriel's Brother be on his way to the Royal Palace too, maybe?

Gabriel stumbled outside, shielding his eyes against the bright desert sun. Nobody here, and what was worse, no horses. Great. Fantastic. It had been a two-hour ride out here. Minimum. Of course there weren't any horses. Why would there be?

"I swear, I didn't know that Turkish girl was married," Gabriel lamented, lifting his face to the sky. "Come on, have a heart."

No response. Gabriel heaved a heavy sigh. He trudged further out into the desert, finally spotting a lone camel. Hey, any port in a storm. He walked up to it. The camel was staring balefully at him.

OK, how was this going to work? How was he supposed to get on the thing? Maybe Gabe should try talking to it, like Cas did. "I need a ride to town," he told the camel in a calm, reasonable tone.

Ptui! The camel spat in his direction. Gabe peered closer at the animal. Was it his imagination, or was the thing grinning now?

He tried again. "Look; you don't like me, and I'm not too wild about you, either. But you're either gonna give me a ride to town, or I'm gonna stick this sword right up your - "

The camel got down to its knees on the sand, and Gabriel smiled. Apparently, threats worked, too. Wait till he told Cas. The camel spat at him again, but it held its position until Gabriel climbed on its back. Then it stood abruptly. Gabe nearly fell off, but he was just able to keep his balance. He stroked its hump a couple of times to try and calm it, but the camel wasn't having any of that. It bucked violently, almost throwing him off its back again. Then it made a honking noise, as if it was laughing at him. Yeah; it was laughing at him. Gabriel was sure of it.

"We're never, ever telling anyone about this. Agreed, Humpy?" he said conspiratorially. The camel grunted in response, and Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Let's go get my friends, then," he said to it, and the camel headed off towards the town.


	3. Trouble

Chapter 2 - Trouble

It had taken a while, but the legendary butterflies were apparently as eternal as the Angels. And now, they had finally gotten their revenge.

The consequences of Ammit's murder in the past had a ripple effect in the present, and at first, it appeared as though the results were going to be very positive for the God Squad.

Sam and Dean were having a beer in their motel room in Cheyenne, Wyoming, winding down before hitting the sack. Rob and Eric were still out on the town somewhere, but they were half the Winchesters' age, and they weren't driving. As it was, the men were only a six-hour drive from home, but when Dean had started weaving the car on the highway, Sam had put his foot down and insisted they stop for the night. It was obvious his brother needed the rest, too, because Dean hadn't raised much of an objection. They'd gone to a roadhouse on the way into town for a drink and a bite. The younger brothers had chatted up a couple of young girls, and they'd told their "uncles" to go on ahead. They would take a cab to the motel later. How much later would be determined, depending on how accommodating the young ladies cared to be.

So the Winchesters were just about ready to call it a night when Dean's cell phone rang. He answered it and, to his surprise, it was Nicole.

"How's it going?" she asked him in a pleasant tone.

"Uh...fine. Good. How are you?" Dean said, puzzled. Hadn't she told him to take a hike recently, before he, Sammy, Cas and Gail had gone to the Caribbean?

"I miss you," Nicole told him. "Do you think Cas could give you a lift to come and see me here, soon? We'll be going on location next month to start the next movie."

Dean was at a loss for words. She'd been so pissed off at him after he'd confessed to her that she had been possessed by that Demon bitch Ammit, and none of them had told her about it.

"Are you upset with me for leaving the bunker so abruptly, after we got back from Quinn's?" Nicole asked, misinterpreting her boyfriend's silence. "I'm sorry about that. I guess I felt guilty for not going on the location-scouting trip. I should never have told Richard I had the flu. My conscience bothered me after that. But, I'd like to make it up to you. I'll tell you what: I'll cook you whatever you want in the kitchen, and I'll let you order a la carte in the bedroom, if you know what I mean," she added mischievously.

Dean started to smile. He still wondered about her sudden about-face, but he was over trying to analyze it. "I'd like that," he told her quickly, "but Cas is...out of town right now. Me and Sammy are on the road, but we'll be home tomorrow. Can I call you when we get back to the bunker, and we'll figure something out?"

They chatted for another couple of minutes, and then Dean hung up, looking at Sam. "OK; that was weird," Dean said to his brother. "Not that I'm complaining, but...it's like she doesn't even remember that whole Ammit thing."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe she's decided to overlook it. She's had some time since then, and maybe she's come to the realization that she likes you too much to hold what happened against you. Although why, I don't know."

Dean gave his brother the one-finger salute, finishing his beer. "Well, I'd better get some rest, then," Dean said, starting to undress. "Maybe Bobby'll send somebody else to take me up there to Vancouver. I didn't wanna tell her where Cas is. I'd probably never see her again. She'd think I was screwing around with her."

A couple of minutes later, Dean was snoring loudly. Sam smiled, shaking his head slowly. He wondered how Cas and the group were doing.

The other positive consequence to Ammit's death, of course, was the fact that Gabriel was still alive, thanks to the unexpected assist from the King of Hell. As Gabriel rode his unlikely and recalcitrant steed into the town, he was still going over and over the events back at the Pyramid in his mind. Had Gail been able to get the entire body of the Texts down, before Metatron had sent her and Paul to their servitude at the Palace? They didn't have all that much of a head start on him, at least. But how long did it take to whip somebody, or to rape and beat them?

"Come on, camel, let's go," Gabe exhorted the beast. "The Royal Palace is still about a mile from here."

The camel halted abruptly and tilted its body to the side, dumping Gabriel unceremoniously onto the dusty ground. He landed with a grunt, then got to his feet slowly and painfully. "Hey! I thought we were building a relationship!" Gabriel yelled at the animal. It made a "Hmph" sound that was eerily similar to that of Leah's, when she disapproved of something Gabriel had said or done. Which was most of the time, he thought with a sigh. Then the camel defecated on the ground by Gabriel's feet, and then it trotted away.

"Nice touch," Gabe said dryly, looking at the sky again. "I'll try not to read anything into it." He sighed again, put his head down, and began the trudge to the Palace.

Mark was utterly shocked to find himself standing on line in Hell, waiting to see one of the intake clerks. How had he gotten here? One moment, he had been screaming in agony, drowning in the Lake of Fire, and the next, he'd found himself here.

When he got to the head of the line, an alarm bell went off, and Crowley suddenly appeared. "Well, well," the King said calmly. "I was wondering if I was going to get you now, or later, after Castiel killed you."

"Castiel?" Mark said, "I was being held as a slave at the Lake of Fire, and then, Ammit cast me into it. I appealed to Castiel to help me, but he laughed in my face."

Crowley smirked. "As I would have. You aligned yourself with Lucifer, Mark. You, a writer of the Gospels. I may be the ruler of Hell, but, you? You were supposed to be one of the good guys."

"That didn't stop you from making John one of your lieutenants," Mark pointed out.

Crowley tilted his head in acknowledgement. "True," he admitted. He was fairly impressed by the fact that Mark had picked up on that, right away. John had been a great lunk of an individual, long on muscle but short on brains. Crowley had often wondered if the man's Gospels had been ghostwritten by one of the others, because John had seemed incapable of finding a coherent sentence with both hands and a flashlight. But before the King had had to decide whether or not John was more of a liability than he was worth, Rowena had decided the issue for him by dispatching the former Angel with a blade.

Mark was looking at Crowley with a puzzled expression. "How did I get here? The Lake of Fire is the second and final death, isn't it? Ammit scooped my organs out of my chest on Earth, and then she threw me into the Lake, later on."

Of course, Crowley thought. Ammit was dead, in the past; therefore, Mark lived, in the present. This day just kept getting better and better. Now, he just had to figure out how to use the unexpected acquisition of a Gospel writer to his advantage.

"Come to my office," he said to Mark. "We'll have a little chat."

But the butterflies weren't done yet. In the unkindest cut of all, when Cas had killed Ammit in that Pyramid, he had sealed his own fate, too. He reappeared in that little house in the Netherworld, but with one very important distinction: this time, he remembered everything.

This was unbelievable! Killing Ammit had been the right thing to do. Of course it had been. She was a Demon Goddess, a menace to all, and she had been planning to usurp Death. Death! The entity who was responsible for Castiel being in the Netherworld in the first place. But Cas had killed Ammit now, thereby living up to the promise that he and Gail had made to Death, that they would kill Ammit. It was enough to make your head spin.

Cas went out into the backyard and lifted his head to the sky. "No! I do not accept this! I delivered on our promise!"

No response. He was shaking with rage now. Where was Gail? What had Metatron done to her, and to Paul? Metatron had the jawbone, and Gabriel was probably laying dead back at that Pyramid, a broken and bloody victim of Anubis. They had done all the right things. Then, how was it fair that everything had gone so wrong?

"Fine. Then I will have no choice but to cause you as much trouble as possible," Cas fumed. He still had his sword in his hand, and now he reached into the pocket of the pantaloons he still wore and pulled out Ammit's claw. But, wait: that wasn't the pocket he'd put it in. He checked the other pocket and, lo and behold, he had her other claw, too.

"My Father was an expert on vengeance," Cas said almost conversationally, smiling grimly. "And, as you well know, I studied at His knee. I will torture and then kill every occupant of this realm, until you set me free. And if you send more, I will do the same. Again, and again, and again, for all of eternity. Our debt to you is paid. Liberate me."

Death appeared in front of him, frowning deeply. "You are speaking like a common thug," Death said with distaste. "I expected better from you."

"I expected better from YOU," Cas shot back. "Ammit is dead. Therefore, she is no longer a threat to you."

"Technically speaking, she never was," Death said calmly. "She died thousands of years ago. I only released you from this realm because Gail threw herself upon my mercy, promising that Ammit would be no more. Now, Ammit is no more, so there is no reason for you to be released from the Netherworld. It's quite the paradox, isn't it, Castiel? Now, do you see the inherent dangers of time travel?"

"You will release me, or you will regret it," Cas said through clenched teeth. He removed one of Ammit's claws from his pants pocket, showing it to Death. "She is dead. I killed her. Here, take it. And every time you look at it, may you be reminded of what a dishonourable individual you are. Take a look around you. By this time tomorrow, the roads will be flooded with blood, and that blood will be on your hands."

Death regarded Cas silently. He couldn't believe the Angel's audacity. Was Castiel actually trying to blackmail him? But, on the other hand, if Death was not honourable, then what was he? Ammit WAS dead. Did it really matter when and how her killing had taken place? Castiel would be his, eventually. And probably sooner rather than later, considering the reckless way the Angel went about his business, and the number of enemies he had. Yes, Castiel would be back. And the next time, Death wouldn't owe him a thing. But Death would remember the events of today, and he would make sure that Castiel did, too.

Death waved his walking stick, and Ammit's claw was transferred to his own hand, from Castiel's. He regarded it for a moment. Then he waved his walking stick again, and Cas disappeared.

"Cas!? What the hell?!" Dean exclaimed. He and Sam looked up from the library table as their Angel friend suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs. Cas stumbled, and then he staggered down the stairs.

"Is Gail here?" he asked the brothers in desperation. When they shook their heads, Cas collapsed at the foot of the stairs, unconscious.

Vincent opened the box that the courier had brought to Becky's place, and he started to smile. This was Blackbeard's skull, all right. He felt the difference right away. It just had a vibe to it. He lifted it out of the box, holding it aloft in triumph. But then, just in case, he turned it upside down. Phew. No manufacturers' label. He'd just had to make sure.

"Bring me a bottle of the strongest liquor you have," he ordered Becky. "Then, make yourself scarce."

Becky's forehead wrinkled. She'd thought the skull was for Sam, to drink the potion from. Maybe Vincent had to test it first, or something. But she knew better than to argue with him by now. He could get really pissy when she did. And Becky needed his help to get Sam. So she scurried into the kitchen and returned a minute later, holding a bottle of wine.

Vincent regarded her scornfully. "Is that the best you can do? Don't you have any alcohol? Rum? Tequila? Anything?"

"I've never really been much of a drinker, and a model shouldn't drink much, anyway," Becky replied, setting the bottle on the table in front of him. "Empty calories."

Vincent nodded. Of course. "Well, it won't matter, soon. When you're pregnant with Sam's brat, you can get as fat as you want."

Becky smiled. That would be kind of neat, actually. Imagine being able to scarf down any kind of food you wanted, as much as you wanted. And then, even when you got fat, people treated you like gold. The more she thought about it, the better the whole thing sounded.

Vincent picked up the bottle of wine and sneered at the label. She called this liquor? It was hardly even worth his while. But he was impatient to have his vision, the one he should have had at The Embarrassed Tiki, where there was real alcohol.

"Get lost," he said irritably. "Go upstairs and get out that box you think I don't know about from your nightstand, and practice. I'll let you know when you can come back downstairs."

Becky rushed out of the room and Vincent poured the wine into the skull, then drank it down.

Gabriel finished his perimeter check of the Palace grounds and walls, satisfying himself that everything was pretty much as he remembered it to be. He was also convinced that wherever Castiel was now, he was not here. There were way too many guards walking around, alive and un-maimed.

The majority of those guards were in the courtyard, and they were well into their cups by now. If Gabriel was very careful, he should be able to scale the wall on the South side of the Palace, and sneak into the area where Hakeem kept the harem.

Once Gabe was moving quietly down the corridor, he could hear the voices of some of the ladies, talking amongst themselves.

"I told her to stop arguing with him, and comply," Athena was saying. "But she kept talking about 'no means no', and 'womens' rights', and other words like that. Things that made no sense."

"I know," Letitia said. "She said the same things to me, and to the others, as well. So when you were bathing, he came to get her, and took her to his chambers."

"I hope he's not too rough on her," Thena went on. "She's new. She just has to learn his ways."

"How was the balm I gave you?" Letitia asked her. "Was it able to soothe the pain?"

"Yes, thank you, my friend," Athena replied.

Gabriel's hands closed into fists. That son of a bitch. He'd better get over to Hakeem's chambers, right away.

Vincent saw a map in his mind's eye a few minutes after drinking from the skull. A small, rocky island in the Baltic Sea. Sometime in the early-to-mid 1800s.

He watched as a woman with a horse-driven cart pulled up in front of one of the private chapels on the island. Wealthy families housed their dead in vaults underneath the chapels back then, in that region. The less well-heeled townspeople tied their horses to posts by the chapels and walked to the nearby cemetery, to visit their relatives' graves.

When the woman Vincent had seen drive up returned to where her horse was tied, it was foaming at the mouth; highly agitated. She obviously couldn't chance driving the horse in its terrified condition, so she summoned a nearby veterinarian, who treated the animal.

Vincent next saw the woman in the Baron's office, reporting the strange occurrence to the official. But the man was shrugging it off. He spoke condescendingly to her, telling her that her horse had probably just been stung by a bee, or frightened by another animal.

But the next week, several other people who had tied their horses in the same location reported their animals in the same agitated state, when they returned to them. Vincent peered closer at the family name on the chapel: BUXHOEWDEN.

Now, he could see other villagers passing by the spot on foot, hearing heavy rumbling sounds coming from the vault below the chapel. Then, more frightened horses.

Pressure was put on town officials to investigate, but the family was being resistant, fearing for their reputation. Instead, they went to the vault themselves, to do an inspection. They opened up the door, and were shocked to find that heavy coffins had somehow been lifted from their biers on the walls, and were piled on the centre of the floor. Vincent grinned. Coffins. Now, they were getting somewhere.

The family members patiently lifted the heavy coffins back into place on the iron racks around the walls of the vault. Then they left, locking the door and pouring lead into the locks to guard against tampering.

For a few days afterwards, all was quiet. But then, the horses that were hitched in front started to rear up, frantically trying to break their hitching lines. Several of them appeared to die of fright, right on the spot.

And then, as the pressure on the town officials to do something about the situation mounted, a member of the Buxhoewden family died. Family representatives melted the seals and unlocked the vault door. Once again, the coffins were heaped in the centre of the floor. But this time, some were upside down, while others were battered-looking, as if they had been thrown, hard.

The family was completely bewildered by now. The townspeople were very upset, begging officials to do...something. But, what? This time, before they locked and sealed the vault again, an investigation was done. They opened a couple of the coffins to see if robbery was a motive, but the jewelry was still on the corpses. And how could any intruders have entered the vault, anyway, considering that the door was locked and sealed with lead? Had they tunneled into the vault, maybe? The officials dug underneath the floor of the vault, all the way around. Nothing. No tunnel.

Not knowing what else to do for the moment, they locked and re-sealed the vault, but not before trying something else: the officials sprinkled fine wood ashes all over the floor of the crypt, and on the steps leading to the chapel. Then they posted armed guards outside the vault door, for good measure.

Three days later, the investigative team returned. The guards reported that they had neither seen nor heard anything unusual. The committee marched down the steps, pleased to see that the wood ashes were undisturbed. They broke the seals and unlocked the vault door.

This time, most of the coffins were standing on end, all the way across the room. But the wood ashes on the floor of the crypt were intact.

As the vision started to fade, Vincent heard the officials requesting the family members to bury their dead elsewhere, and the family agreeing to do so. And then, the vision was gone.

Hmmm. Vincent sat back in his chair. What was the significance of what he had just seen? It must be about the Coffin Texts, but it had been maddeningly vague. Just an eerie story, and an unsolved mystery.

Vincent grabbed Becky's laptop. He preferred the old ways, but Google was sometimes useful, too. He searched the subject, and was a little surprised to see that there had been several of those types of incidents, in the past 300 years, or so. Buxhoewden, French, MacGregor...Chase.

Chase! Wait a minute. The Chase vault was in Barbados, in Vincent's backyard. He clicked on the story. Yes, it was very similar to the vision he had just had. Very similar, indeed. He read on, intrigued. The account of the Chase vault was likened to the Masonic legend of a secret vault, which the ancient lore stated was symbolic of death, "where Divine Truth is to be found."

That got Vincent's attention. He continued to read, scrolling avidly down the page. Before the Chase family had bought the vault, the man who had built it had interred his wife there. But the next time the vault was opened, her body was gone! Vanished. Disappeared.

Vincent grinned again. Bingo. He quickly checked the other stories, but the Chase vault was the only one that referred to both the Divine Truth, and a missing corpse. The Chase vault remained in Barbados to this day, and apparently, it stood empty now.

Vincent called for Becky.

Gail was sitting in a chair in Hakeem's bedchamber, eyeing him with suspicion. He hadn't been aggressive towards her so far, but she had the feeling he was just biding his time.

"I understand you've been talking to the other women," he said in a deceptively calm tone, pacing the room. "Telling them all kinds of nonsense about women, having rights."

"Yeah, so what? We do," she retorted. "We have the right not to be raped, or beaten."

"You have NO rights!" he shouted. "You are a whore! You will do as I say!"

"Ummm...just so you know, I'm not a prostitute," she said dryly. "But even if I was, or if those women are, that doesn't give you the right to hurt them like you do."

"They belong to me, as you do, now," Hakeem said haughtily. "I will do as I please. If you continue to talk like that, I will cut your tongue out."

Gail said nothing. She had been looking surreptitiously around the room to see if there was anything she could use as a weapon, but...

A servant entered the room, bowing low. "The refreshments you ordered," he said, putting a bowl of fruit and a bottle of wine down on the table beside Gail. He bowed again, then left the room.

"You will peel an apple, cut it, and feed it to me," Hakeem said to Gail. "Then, I will have my way with you. And if I hear one word of protest, you will be taken to the servants' quarters and whipped, until you are compliant."

"Can I ask you just one tiny, little question?" Gail said in a timid voice. "What would you like me to peel the fruit WITH?" She held up her hands. "As you can see, my fingernails are very short."

Hakeem rolled his eyes. "Look in the bowl, you stupid woman. There will be a paring knife in there." He lay down on the bed, propping some pillows behind his head.

Gail rose from her chair and looked in the fruit bowl, smiling internally. A paring knife, eh? She could work with that.

But just as she was digging the knife out of the bowl, a high, feminine voice called out from the doorway. "Master? Could I please see you for a moment? It's urgent."

Hakeem let out a frustrated breath. "Very well. Come in."

"No, Master, I cannot. Please, you have to come here. Please," the woman said.

Hakeem got off the bed and stalked angrily to the door. "This had better be important, or - " His sentence cut off abruptly.

Gail looked up. What the hell?

Gabriel rushed into the room, wearing a dress and a veil, covering the lower part of his face. Gail burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. This was too funny. "Oh, please tell me that Cas is right behind you, dressed like you are," she pleaded with him. "Please. I've been good."

"Nope. It's just me," Gabriel said vaguely. "Come on. We'd better go. I knocked him out, but a guy with a head that hard won't stay unconscious for long." He touched her arm. "Did he hurt you?"

"No, we hadn't gotten to that part of the program yet," she said sarcastically. She showed him the small paring knife. "He's lucky. I was just about to 'Bobbitt' him, if you hadn't come."

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up. "With that little thing?"

"Dammit! That would have been a perfect line to use on HIM!" Gail quipped, and they laughed together.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her towards the door. "Where's Paul? And where's the stone?"

"Paul's got the stone, or at least he did, when we first got here," Gail replied. "He's probably in the servants' quarters, but I don't know where that is."

"I do," Gabriel said, steering her in that direction.

Gail was starting to smell a rat now. "Where's Cas?" she asked the Archangel.

Gabe sighed. "I don't know, Gail. He disappeared from the Pyramid, after he killed Ammit."

"Ammit's dead?" Gail said. "That's the first good news we've had in a while, anyway."

"Anubis is dead, too," Gabriel told her. "But, I'm sorry, Gail: I have no idea where Cas went. We've got to get Paul and get that stone and get out of here. As it is, I'm hoping that Portal is where it's supposed to be."

"Well, if Cas isn't here, we can't go," Gail insisted stubbornly.

"I hate to tell you this, Kitten, but I'm not giving you a choice. You're going. So is Paul, and so is that stone. We've already lost the jawbone. The Portal will be closing soon. If I have to, I'll stay behind, but you and Paul are going back. There's no kind of life for either of you, here. You've seen that."

She frowned, but there was no time for a debate with him right now. "These are the servants' quarters," Gabriel announced in an acid tone, and Gail made a groaning sound. They were looking at a series of cages. Literally. Cages. Wow. Gabriel was right. They had to get Paul out of here.

They found him sitting on the floor of his cell. The hard, stone floor. There was no bed, and nothing to sit on. He looked up at their approach. "Hey, Boo, Hi, Gabe," Paul said mildly. "I was hopin' you were coming soon. I didn't know how many more whippings it was gonna take until they had to kill me."

Gail was dismayed. "Oh, Paul. How are we going to get him out of there?" she asked Gabriel frantically.

Gabriel smiled grimly. "At last, my misspent youth is paying off. Give me that paring knife." He stuck it in the lock of Paul's cell as Paul rose gingerly to his feet. "You look lovely, by the way," he said to the Archangel, and Gabriel's eyes crinkled briefly. If Paul was well enough to joke, he would be all right.

"Where's the stone?" Gabriel said, still fiddling with the lock.

"Sorry, I have no idea. They took it from me before they shoved me in here," Paul replied.

Gabriel tripped the lock, opening the cage door. "Great," he fumed. "Well, we're not going home empty-handed."

"Where's Cas?" Paul asked him, exiting the cell.

"I don't know!" Gabriel said, raising his voice in frustration.

"Who are you women, and what are you doing here?" A guard had come around the corner, brandishing a sword. He looked suspiciously at Gabriel. "I don't recognize you. Hakeem's concubines are not allowed to be here. Get back to the harem. And give me that sword. You'll hurt yourself."

"You want this sword?" Gabriel said in an exaggerated falsetto. "Then come here and get it, Big Boy."

The guard fell for it, approaching the trio. Hakeem must have his servants so cowed that they were too afraid to fight back, Gail thought with disgust. It was the same with the women in the harem. She had been trying to exhort them all to stand up for themselves, but she had met with nothing but resistance. She supposed it was because they knew of no other kind of existence. But it made her sad and angry, at the same time.

Gabriel thrust the sword he was carrying at the guard, and Paul wrestled the guard's sword out of his hand. The men pushed him into Paul's cell and slammed the door shut.

"Let's see how YOU like it," Paul said to him.

The three of them rushed down the hall. "I have an idea," Gabriel said. "When you said they took the stone from you, Paul, I remembered: there's a guy here who they call a scholar. He's sort of like our Kevin Tran. Whenever Hakeem found any old papyri or anything like that, he would take it to this guy for translation. Maybe he's got it."

He hustled them down the corridor towards the library, where the scholar spent most of his time. But just as the three of them rounded the corner, Athena and Letitia stopped them in the hallway.

"What are you ladies doing here, and with a slave, no less?" Athena confronted Gail and Gabriel. "Hakeem will have you whipped, if he catches you."

Gabriel removed the veil from his face, eliciting a gasp from the women. "I'm here to rescue my friends," he said. "They don't belong here, and neither do any of you. Leave here, 'Thena. You too, Letitia. You can have a better life. You don't deserve to be raped and beaten."

"That's what SHE said, too," Letitia remarked, nodding her head towards Gail. "But, where would we go? What would we do?"

"What would become of us without the protection of the Royal Palace?" Athena chimed in.

"You're your own protection," Gail insisted. "I've defended myself against men twice my size. You can do it. You just have to decide that you're not going to take it any more."

"You're too beautiful to have bruises all over you," Gabriel said to Athena softly. "And your soul is too beautiful to let him take it away from you, piece by piece. Please, 'Thena. Promise me you'll leave this place."

"It is you who will leave this place," Hakeem said from behind them. "Guards!" he called out.

"Are you able to fight?" Gabriel asked Paul, and Paul nodded. He was in a lot of pain, but there was no way. This asshat was going down.

Gabriel grabbed Gail's arm. "The library is down that way, on the left. See if you can get the stone. Me and Paul will be there in a minute." Or we'll be dead, he thought.

Crap! Gail wanted to protest, but Gabriel was right. If they didn't at least have the stone, this would all have been for nothing. Well, except for Ammit being dead, of course. That was the one good -

She froze in shock. The Butterfly Effect! Cas had killed Ammit, and then, Cas had disappeared. No. It couldn't be.

"I think I know where Cas is," she blurted out. "He's in the Netherworld, again! We've got to get home, right away!"

"Go get the stone," Gabriel urged her, as four guards ran down the corridor towards them. "GO!"

Gail ran in the opposite direction, to where Gabe had directed her. She found the library and ran into the room, startling a man in robes who was examining the very object she was looking for.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Gail said, thinking fast. "Hakeem sent me here. He wants to see the stone. I was hurrying to do his bidding because I didn't want to be whipped again."

The man looked at her for a moment, and then he picked up the stone with both hands, extending it to her to take. "Here you go, my dear," he said in a kindly tone. "Watch it; it's a little heavy. We wouldn't want anything to happen to it."

Gail nearly cried. He was the first man who'd been halfway decent to her since they'd gotten here. "Thank you," she said, taking the stone from him. She hurried back out to the corridor, just in time to see Gabriel and Paul running towards her, holding bloody swords. Athena and Letitia were following them.

"Keep going, that way!" Gabriel shouted to Gail, pointing in the opposite direction. "The alcove in the courtyard is around the corner. We've got to get out of here before Happy Hour's over, and the rest of the Royal Guardsmen come for us!"

They all ran outside, to a little spot off the main courtyard that had a low stone wall, climbing ivy, and a reflecting pool. Gabriel glanced at Athena. Six months from now, the two of them would have spent a considerable amount of time here, kissing and talking softly, while Cas kept a lookout at the entryway. But that would never happen now, because they had altered the timeline with their visit.

"Please, convince all the women that you can to leave here, today," Gabriel said to Thena now. "This is not a good place. You know that. It doesn't matter who's running the show."

"You have liberated us," Athena said, looking at the trio. "Thank you."

"We will go to the slaves' quarters and free them, too," Letitia added, showing them the key ring she had taken off the dead guard's belt. "Then, we will leave. I'd rather take my chances in the desert than be beaten again."

"Where's Hakeem?" Gail asked Gabriel. But she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

He smiled grimly. "Most of him is in the corridor, where you saw him last."

"Gabriel!" Gail exclaimed.

"Oh, so what?" he retorted angrily. "I was gonna kill him six months from now, anyway. So, I avoided the Christmas rush and did it now. That's six months' less suffering these poor people have to do."

"Amen, Brother," Paul said fervently, and Gail nodded. She couldn't fault his reasoning, there.

Gail looked at the women. It was funny; when she'd first gotten here, she had been prepared to dislike Letitia, because of what she knew about her interest in Cas. And then, when Gail had actually met Letitia, she had been prepared to hate the woman. Gabriel was right; she was drop-dead gorgeous. But now, Gail could understand. Considering what these ladies had to put up with on a daily basis, Cas and Gabriel must have seemed like the Holy Grail to them, as far as men were concerned. A lifeline.

Well, Cas was GAIL's lifeline, and she needed to get back, so she could figure out how to get him out of the Netherworld, this time. She looked at the corner of the alcove. The air there shimmered, for lack of a better expression. Kind of like the waves of heat on a really humid day. "Is that it?" she asked Gabriel.

"Yep, that's it," he confirmed. He looked at Athena once more. "Promise me," Gabriel said again.

Athena smiled. "I promise."

Gabriel led Gail and Paul over to the Portal. "Allow me," he said, taking the stone from her. Then he pushed her through the Portal, then Paul. Then, with one last, longing look at Athena, Gabriel stepped through.

Vincent told Becky he had some business to attend to, and he would be back in a day or so. Sam and Dean had just gotten back from an extended road trip, so Sam would need a couple of days' rest, minimum. Becky didn't ask Vincent how he knew that. She just knew that he did.

He went to Barbados immediately, and as he had read about, there was no one there, and there was no security, that he could see. The goings-on at the Chase vault had been quite a while ago, but still, he would have thought...

Oh, well. It didn't matter. So much the better for him. He climbed the steps down into the vault, turning on the flashlight he'd brought with him. The former crypt was completely empty now; just a hole in the ground, really. He shone the flashlight all around, and then he started at one side of the stairs, working his way methodically around the chamber.

He saw that there was some writing on the far wall, so he hurried over there, telling himself not to get too excited. This place had been standing open for who knew how long. It was probably just graffiti. Something about how someone loved someone else, or something like that.

But what Vincent saw when he drew near enough to read the writing was some sort of riddle. It had to be. The words were English, but they made no sense. Vincent gritted his teeth in frustration. God, he hated riddles. Mean what you say, and say what you mean. Why all the pussyfooting around? Splitting the Book of the Dead in two parts was bad enough, but now, he was expected to read the mind of whoever was trying to show how wonderfully clever they were by posing a riddle for their acquisition. Whoever's bright idea this was had better have the good sense to be long dead, or Vincent was going to kill him. Better still, once he got a hold of both the Pyramid and the Coffin Texts and was able to call forth the dead, this guy would be the first one that Vincent would resurrect, just so he could kill him all over again.

"Seven verses, seven modern Wonders," the writings read. "The Gods' own words will provide release from the Underworld. These Utterances are the Coffin Texts."

Well, thank you for that last part, Vincent thought with maximum sarcasm. Otherwise, I might have thought you were talking about my Aunt Mildred's recipe for beef stew. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and snapped a few photos of the riddle, and then he recited it aloud several times for good measure, committing it to memory. Then he exited the former tomb quietly and calmly, walking up the steps until he was standing in the churchyard once again.

Then Vincent lifted his head to the skies and waved both of his arms out to his sides, and several gravestones uprooted from the sod and toppled over, smashing to bits. The storm clouds gathered as his eyes glowed bright red, and a bolt of lightning came down, striking the church spire and igniting the wood of the old structure. Vincent watched as the church began to burn, and only then did the frown leave his face. "My son will destroy you all," he said spitefully. Then he vanished.

Gabriel, Paul and Gail stumbled into Bobby's office through the Portal, right where they'd started from. At least he'd gotten that part right, Gabe thought wryly. He placed the stone on Bobby's desk so that he didn't drop it, because he could feel himself fading already.

Bobby stood quickly from his chair and came around the desk. "What the - ?" he said, but Gabriel held up his hand. "I only have a second," he told Bobby. The men looked down at the floor, where Paul and Gail had fallen, unconscious.

Gabriel pointed to the stone. "Pyramid Texts. We lost the jawbone. Paul's been whipped, and Cas is in the Netherworld."

"No, he isn't," Bobby shot back. "He's at the bunker. And why are you in a dress?"

But before Gabriel had the chance to think up a really good, smartass answer to that, everything went black.

Paul was laying on his stomach on his bed at his and Henri's place, and a concerned and angry Linda was laying the poultice gently on his bare back. She blessed Chuck, and his directory. As soon as Bobby had called, she and Henri had rushed over to fetch Paul from the High Office. Bobby told them what Gabriel had said about the young Angel having been whipped, so Henri had lifted Paul gently into his arms and took him back to the house while Linda looked up a nurse in the directory and received instructions on how to treat Paul's wounds.

Henri's lips were pressed tightly together. They had whipped his boy. He'd love to march right over to Bobby's office and tell their friend to send him back, right now, so he could punch each and every one of those mothers right in the face.

Linda pressed the poultice gingerly to Paul's back, grateful that her fiance was so deeply unconscious that he didn't seem to feel the pain. She felt terrible, not only for what he must have gone through, but for all of the lectures she'd given him about his views on racism. It didn't take a genius to figure out why Paul was the only one of them who had been whipped.

But at least they were back now, and Paul would probably sleep through the worst of the pain. Gabriel had cautioned all of them that the four time travelers would probably be out for about a week after they got back. Linda looked at Henri. "Did they at least get what they went for?" she asked wearily. "Did Bobby say?"

"They gave him a stone that Gabriel said has the Pyramid Texts on it," Henri replied. "Bobby called Kevin. He's going to get to work on it immediately." Then he frowned. "But Gabriel said they lost the jawbone."

Great. Just great. Well, at least they had the stupid Pyramid Texts, Linda thought. She was sure that Kevin would be able to translate them pretty quickly. Then they would be one step closer.

Liz was sitting by Gabriel, waiting to see if he was going to stir. When it became evident that he was down for the count, she wet a washcloth and began to clean the blood from him, washing him gently. She was glad to see that he only had a couple of scratches and bruises underneath. When he woke up, she would have to make it a point to tease him about the dress, though. Maybe something about it not being his colour, or that they should hem it up, so he could show off his legs. She could only imagine the stories he had to tell. She leaned down and kissed him gently on the cheek. Her poor, tired hero. She would wait here as long as it took for him to regain consciousness.

Bobby transported Gail to the bunker himself, carrying her into her and Cas's old bedroom, where the boys had taken Cas when he'd first arrived. Bobby lay an unconscious Gail gently next to her husband, who was still out cold.

"Let's leave these sleeping beauties alone," he said to Sam and Dean. "Gabriel said they might be out about a week."

"It's so weird, seeing them sleep like that," Sam remarked.

"Yeah, and Cas doesn't even snore," Dean groused good-naturedly. "Maybe we should hang out for a few minutes and see if Gail does. Can you imagine? I'd love to have that on her. She bitched enough times about ME snoring."

"Well, ya do," Bobby pointed out.

Suddenly, Cas stirred. He rolled over, putting his arm around Gail and spooning her. But neither Angel woke, although Cas smiled gently.

"Awww," Sam said. "Let's leave them to sleep, in Heavenly peace."

"You did not just say that," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

The men closed the door softly and then walked out to the library area.

"We cleaned the sword he had in his hand, and put it in the weapons room," Sam told Bobby. "And, he had a bloody claw in his pocket, so we put that in the cabinet."

"Did they get that jawbone?" Dean wanted to know.

Bobby's forehead wrinkled. "Gabriel said they lost it, whatever that means. We'll have to wait for them all to wake up, to find out what happened. They did get the Pyramid Texts, though. I gave them to Kevin to translate." He looked at Sam. "I might tell him to call you, if he needs help. How was your trip with the boys?"

"It was good," Dean told him. "You know what? Those kids are okay. They still need a bit of training, but they make a pretty good team. Frank did a good job with them. Jody, too." He smirked. "Don't tell Frank I said that."

"You realize you just called them 'kids', right?" Bobby said, his beard twitching. "Welcome to the Old Guys' club."

"You're God, right? Shouldn't your beard be white by now?" Sam wisecracked.

"Don't sass me, Boy," Bobby said automatically. "Do me a favour, and let me know when those two wake up." Then he vanished.

Several days passed, with no change in the status quo. Then finally, Cas awoke. He was still spooning Gail, and he heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you, Father," he said, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Gail started to come to, and then she felt her husband's arm around her. She smiled. Oh, thank God. He wasn't in the Netherworld. He was here, with her. But, wait a minute: where was here? She opened her eyes, letting out a relieved breath. Their room at the bunker. She would always consider it their room, no matter how long they'd been living elsewhere.

She rolled over to face Cas, and he was smiling. "I was so frightened. I didn't know where you'd gone," he told her softly.

"I thought you were in the Netherworld," Gail said to her husband. "Gabriel told me you killed Ammit."

Cas was impressed. It was very astute of her to have made the connection. But right now, he just wanted to savour the fact that they were both here together, safe and sound. He kissed her on the forehead, and then tilted her face up so that he could kiss her on the lips.

"Boy, have I got some stories for you," Gail said. "Remind me to describe, in great detail, what Gabriel looks like in a dress. Man, the next time we go on a mission, I'm taking a cell phone."

Cas laughed, cuddling Gail to him. It didn't matter one bit to him at the moment how successful or unsuccessful their mission had been. As long as he and Gail were together, things were all right.

Sam and Dean were staring at each other, open-mouthed. They had never seen anything quite like this before. Cas and Gail had come into the kitchen hand in hand this morning and asked for coffee and breakfast. Lots and lots of breakfast. So Sam had whipped up a big breakfast for them all and Dean had put on the coffee and they'd all eaten together. The Angels wolfed down a big plate of food each, and then asked for seconds.

Gail finally sat back, rubbing her stomach. "Wow. I wonder if I'll be able to fit into my pants, after this." She looked at Cas, who was still scooping scrambled eggs into his mouth. "I feel like a human. We just had a good sleep, and a yummy meal. We're not going to have to go to the bathroom after this, are we? That would kind of ruin the whole experience."

Cas put his spoon down. It was kind of funny that he hadn't used a fork, the Winchesters thought with amusement. Maybe it had been so long since he'd eaten that he'd forgotten how to do it.

"Don't worry, my love," Cas said, smiling. He glanced at Dean. "From what I've heard, it's often the exact opposite."

They had talked about the mission the Angels had just undertaken over breakfast, and the brothers told Cas and Gail that Bobby wanted to debrief them as soon as possible. "I'll tell you what," Gail said. "I just want to give Frank a quick call, and tell him we're OK. Maybe we can pop over there and see them after we talk to Bobby, and we make sure Paul and Gabriel are all right."

"Allow me," Cas said. He had recovered his cell phone after he'd showered and changed into a shirt and jeans. He called Frank's number, but got the Voice Mail. He left a quick message, letting Gail's brother know that they were back and they were fine, and they would be in touch later on.

"Thanks for taking care of us, and for the yummy breakfast," Gail told the brothers, giving each of them a hug and a kiss. "We'll see you soon."

Then she and Cas popped themselves to Heaven.

Rob still couldn't believe it. He and Eric had been home for a couple of days now, and after a night's rest, they had let themselves into the kitchen of Frank and Jody's house, to raid the fridge for some food that hadn't gone bad. Jody had been sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee, and the instant the young men had entered the room through the door that connected to their wing of the house, Jody called out for Frank.

Eric smiled. "Sorry, but we're starving. We'll replace what we eat, I promise."

But Rob was looking at his mom, and he realized something: she wasn't annoyed. She was...

Frank came into the room, bouncing Angela up and down in his arms. "Aww, geez. They're back. The human garbage disposals," he said, but Jody said, "Do you know these guys? They just walked into our house!"

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny," Eric said, taking some things out of the fridge. But Rob's eyes narrowed. He approached the kitchen table slowly. "Mom?"

"What are you talking about?" Jody said sharply. "My son's dead." She got up abruptly, and strode out of the room.

Aw, crap. "Do me a favour?" Frank said to an astounded Rob. He handed Angela to his son. "Take your sister to her room, and then come back. I'm gonna go see your mother for a second, and then we've got to talk."

Then the three men had their chat, and now, a couple of days later, Rob was sitting with his mom in the living room. She was back to herself today, she'd told him. She had good days, and she had bad days. Luckily, the bad days had been few and far between, but they would probably get more frequent as her disease progressed, she'd cautioned Rob.

He had started to cry, and Jody had opened up her arms and held him, just as she had when he'd been a little boy, all those years ago. After he'd let it out for a few minutes, Jody broke the embrace, looking into her son's eyes.

"I'm so proud of you," Jody told Rob. "If I have a bad day, please don't take it personally. I'm going to fight as hard as I can, for as long as I can. But I don't want you to feel bad, Robbie. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that I love you very much."

His mom had called him Robbie, Rob thought with a wry smile. She hadn't called him that in years. But it sure beat the hell out of not even knowing who he was. His dad had explained to him and Eric what the symptoms of the disease were, and told them they would have to be patient with Jody, if she struggled from time to time. She could go into remission, Frank told them. She could live on for years and years, yet. You never knew. They were coming up with new things all the time in the field of cancer research.

But his dad was full of it, and they all knew it. Predictably enough, Eric had been angry. He'd jumped up from the kitchen table and gone back to his and Rob's part of the house, and they'd heard the door to his room slam loudly a moment later.

Rob had looked at Frank, fighting about ten different emotions at once. He felt nauseous, sad, outraged, and depressed. He felt sympathy for his mom, of course, and for his dad, too. Jody had fought all the way back from breast cancer. How fair was this, now? Why didn't the stupid disease pick on someone else, for a change?

So he sat on the couch with his mom now, at a total loss. What should he say? What could he do?

The only thing he could do. Rob touched Jody's cheek. "I love you, Mom," he told her. "If there's anything I can do for you, anything at all..."

"Just live the best life you can, and be happy. That's all I want for you," Jody said softly. Then she tried to smile. "And, some cookies."

"Huh?" Rob said, confused.

"Remember how I used to tell you that you could only have one cookie, and then your dad would sneak you a couple more?" Jody said, smiling warmly at her son.

Rob smiled back. "You knew about that?"

Jody rolled her eyes. "Please. I knew, the neighbours knew, I think the whole town knew. You'd get all sugared up and run around the house, and then you'd tell us you couldn't sleep. Big surprise. I asked Frank why he didn't just give you a pot of coffee, while he was at it. But I didn't tell him to stop, because we were both so in love with having a kid. We were both so in love with YOU, Robbie." She took her son's hand. "Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make us some coffee, and we'll eat cookies until we puke. What do you say?"

Mother and son laughed through their tears, and then they went to the kitchen.

Cas was pacing the floor of Bobby's office, agitated. The four of them were all awake and back to normal now, and they had been filling both Bobby and each other in on the events of the past few weeks.

Now that everyone was settled and Paul's wounds had begun to heal, they were all analyzing the various elements of the mission. And there was one thing that bothered Cas, above all others.

"Where did that jawbone end up?" he fumed. "What did Metatron do with it? If he'd had it all those years, why didn't he ever use it?"

But none of them had any answers for him. None of them could even come up with a theory. Metatron had been one of the bad guys back then, an evil schemer. Why would he not have used a weapon of such strength, against one of any number of enemies he had made over the years?

In the end, though, it really didn't matter. The bottom line was that Castiel had had the jawbone, and then he had lost it. He took full responsibility for that, even though everyone else told him there was no way he could have foreseen Metatron's sudden appearance.

But there were bright spots, too. They had managed to get the Pyramid Texts, and Kevin was hard at work on the translations. He'd already reported some good news to Bobby, too; it looked as though the Pyramid Texts might contain a clue or two as to where the Coffin Texts were located.

And, Ammit was dead. One of the unholy triad was no more. In a lighthearted moment, Bobby told the group that Dean had reported that he was back in Nicole's good books again, because of it. He'd actually asked Bobby if he could spare an Angel to take Dean up to Vancouver for a quick visit before Nicole went back out on the road, and Bobby had scowled and said he wasn't running a taxi company, or a dating service, either. They had all laughed, and Cas said that he could probably see his way clear to giving Dean a lift. They had to wait on Kevin for the translations anyway, and they also had to regroup, and figure out where they went from here.

Gabriel had advised everyone how Crowley had suddenly shown up and helped him out with Anubis, but in exchange, the King had taken away Leah's keepsake. He said that he and Liz were going to see the older Angel after they left here, and tell her the tale. Cas said he didn't think she would mind too much, considering the fact that her keepsake had saved Gabriel's life.

Paul and Linda were going to see Kevin, and then Paul was going to try to get a bit more rest. His back was healing very nicely thanks to Linda's ministrations, but it would still take a little time for him to heal all the way.

And Cas and Gail were going to check in on Frank and Jody. They still hadn't returned Cas's call, and Gail wanted to make sure that everything was OK with them. They'd still never found out what Frank had been so concerned about with regard to Jody, because they had been away so much.

After the Angels had all departed his office, Bobby sat there, thinking about the whole operation. What a wild adventure. It had had its successes and failures, to be sure, but as a whole, he thought it could be counted as a win for their side.

He looked at the pile of files that Laurel had sat on the corner of his desk yesterday. She had very diplomatically reminded Bobby that there were still quite a few of them that needed updating. Cas hadn't exactly been the world's most efficient administrator, when it had come to the necessary paperwork.

Bobby hadn't even looked at the stack she'd given him yet. Geez. He'd better get to it. Laurel had this way of making him feel like he was letting her down personally if he shirked his paperwork duties. It was ridiculous, really. He was God, right? So he was in charge. Wasn't he?

He picked up the first file. Well, at least it was skinny. Laurel had decided to include one red file a week, just to get those done, too. This one was marked "Seven Wonders". Hmmm. As far as Bobby could recall, the original Seven Wonders of the World didn't even exist anymore. Oh, wait. Maybe the Great Pyramid at Giza was one. He could Google that, if it turned out to be relevant. Funny that Kevin was working on the Pyramid Texts, and Bobby was thinking about a pyramid. Or, was it?

He opened the file. Sure enough, there was a list of the original Seven Wonders of the World. Well, whoopie-doo. Six of them weren't even in existence any more. He could probably just destroy this particular file. What possible relevance could it have, nowadays?

But, wait: the next page had a list of attractions at Las Vegas hotels, with numbers that corresponded to the original Seven Wonders. As he read on, Bobby saw that there were notes on each attraction, which appeared to be instructions on where to go to find - something - at each location.

As Bobby sat back in his chair, wondering what all of this could mean, Kevin called, advising that he and Emma had translated a passage on the stone that read as follows:

"'Seven verses, seven modern Wonders'," Kevin read. "'The Gods' own words will provide release from the Underworld. These Utterances are the Coffin Texts'." There was a pause. "I know it sounds kinda weird, but that's definitely what it says. Does that mean anything to you, Bobby?"

Bobby started to smile. "I think it might, Kevin. I think it just might."

He picked up his cell phone to call Cas.

Mark walked into the wing of Hell that stood adjacent to the Torture Wing. He and Crowley had had their little chat, but to Mark's disappointment, the King had ended up summoning a couple of musclebound minions to escort Mark to his work assignment here, and that was that. Crowley had acted as though Mark was just another rank and file Demon, not even worth discussing deals with. But they would see about that. Yes, they would see. Crowley must have forgotten that Mark was one of the original writers of the Gospels, and as such, he had been privy to a few of Heaven's secrets. When Ammit had been holding Mark captive, he had tried to barter with her. But she'd had no interest in Heaven, or in God's Word. Mark was pretty sure that Crowley would feel differently. But he wasn't about to share his knowledge with the King, not without getting something in return. The problem was: what did Mark want? So until he could figure that out, he would bide his time, and do his time. This particular work detail didn't seem too onerous.

"Another apprentice?" Xavier said irritably. "How hard can it be? Keep the snakes in the pit, cast the victims in, and don't fall in, yourself."

"Well, unless you annoy us, that is," Lanister added with a wicked smile. "Then, we receive a new apprentice from Crowley, to replace you. I hope this one knows his place, at least."

"If worse comes to worst and he avoids the serpents, we can always smuggle him out to Alexander," Xavier said indifferently. "I imagine he's enjoying his new appointment."

"Being able to cast souls into the Lake of Fire? Hearing their screams of torment? Who wouldn't enjoy that?" Lanister asked Xavier rhetorically.

"Well, well. Would you look at this?" Mark said, smirking. "Two members of the Upper Echelon, turned snake charmers. I can assure you, those screams of torment aren't so terrific from the opposite end of the spectrum."

Xavier's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"Oh, that's right. You wouldn't recognize me in this vessel. Mark. Of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Please, no autographs."

"Right. And I'm Pontius Pilate," Xavier said sarcastically.

"Yes, you are," Mark said, and he laughed.

Lanister and Xavier exchanged glances. Whoever this man was, he was obviously unhinged. Oh, well. No matter. They'd had others. And, as Xavier had said, it did not take a lot of intellect to do their jobs.

"Very well. Let us show you what the job entails," Lanister said with a frown.

"I've got a better idea," Mark said, leaning casually against the wall. "How would the two of you like to bust out of here?"

Before Cas and Gail went to Earth to see her brother and his family, they walked down the corridor a ways with Paul and Gabriel.

"I just wanted to thank the both of you for everything you did, back there," Cas said to the men.

"I didn't do anything, Cas," Paul said. "All I did was star in bad remakes of the original 'Star Wars', and 'Roots'."

Gail touched Cas's arm, preparing to help explain what Paul was talking about, but her husband was shaking his head. "If you are referring to Luke Skywalker's discovery that Darth Vader was his father, I hardly think that's the same situation," Cas said, rather stiffly. Then he frowned. "Although, your reference to the TV mini-series about slavery is unfortunately much more apt." Gail was staring at Cas, and his expression relaxed. "It comes and goes," he told her.

"You were a valuable member of the team, and a very entertaining travel companion," Gabriel assured Paul. "When you're feeling a little better, let's you and me get together with Linda and Liz, and hang out." He clapped Paul on the shoulder, and Paul smiled. "I'd like that," he told the Archangel.

"I'd hug you, but I don't want to hurt you," Gail said to Paul. "Rain cheque?"

He smiled down at her. "I'll make you a counter-offer." He pointed to his cheek. "See that spot, right there? That's one of the few places on my body that doesn't hurt. Plant one on me, Boo. You can look the other way if you want, Cas."

Gail laughed softly, stretching up to kiss Paul on the cheek. "If I had to go on sale with anybody, I'm glad it was you," she joked.

"OK, now you're just being silly," Paul said lightly. He tipped Cas a salute, and then he was gone.

"I'm sore too, but feel free to hug away," Gabriel said to Gail, opening up his arms.

Gail smiled again, and she walked into his arms, embracing him tightly. "Thanks for coming to get us," she said to Gabriel. "And, thanks for having Cas's back."

Gabriel hugged her, smiling at Cas. "Always," he said.

"Give our love to Liz, and to Leah, too," Gail said, breaking the embrace. "We'll have to stop in and see them both, soon. I just need to see Frank, first."

"I get that," Gabe said affably. "Say hi to Frankly-My-Dear-I-Don't-Give-A-Damn for me."

"Wow, that was a stretch," Gail said, laughing.

"Hey, give me a break. I just travelled back in time, thousands of years. If you want wit, call a comedian," Gabriel said.

As Gail debated her retort, Cas stepped forward. "Brother?" he said to Gabriel. The Archangel lifted an eyebrow. "Ummm...yes, Castiel?"

Cas launched himself at a surprised Gabriel, giving the Archangel a hug. "Thank you for bringing Gail back to me," Cas said in a thick voice. "To us."

"De nada," Gabriel said, patting Cas's back. He was grinning now. He'd seen a lot of aspects of Cas's personality, but this was definitely a first. "I had to bring her back," Gabe wisecracked. "How else would I know about it, when she finally decides to divorce you and go for the upgrade?" he said, puffing out his chest.

Cas and Gail both rolled their eyes as Gabriel clapped Cas on the shoulder. Then, the Archangel vanished.

Now that Frank and Jody had spent a bit of time with the boys, getting them used to the new reality, the couple had agreed that they had to inform the others, too. So Frank had called over to the bunker, and he was talking to Sam when Jody reported that Cas and Gail were at the door.

Frank sighed. "You might as well let them in," he told his wife. "Maybe one of them can go over and get those guys, then." He told Sam to sit tight as the Angels entered the house. Just as they did, Cas's cell phone rang. "It's Bobby," the Angel announced.

"It's like Grand Central Station here, all of a sudden," Frank commented. He gave Gail a quick hug, then asked her to pop over and get the Winchesters. They needed to have a family meeting. Gail's forehead wrinkled, but she popped out obediently.

"Tell Bobby to come here, please," Jody said to Cas. "He needs to be included in this."

Bobby had been trying to tell Cas about the Seven Wonders, but he could hear a certain tone in Cas's voice now that he didn't like. Cas was distracted now, remembering what he had seen when he had attempted to peer into Jody's thoughts. She had that same dark look on her face now.

They walked into the living room. Rob and Eric were already there, but Angela was not. Jody had taken their little daughter to Rob's bedroom in his and Eric's separate quarters, and put on some cartoons for Angela to watch. The girl was a little too bright to have around during a conversation about the deadly, life-threatening disease her mother had.

Once they were all gathered there, Jody looked around at everyone. This kind of reminded her of the time she'd had to tell the guys about her breast cancer. But there was one major difference: Jody had been fairly confident that she was going to make a full recovery, back then. But now...She swallowed, hard, and told them about her diagnosis.

Bobby's look was grim. As a man who had been a human at a bit more of an advanced age, he had researched various types of cancer and their survival rates in the past, and he knew that the prognosis for what Jody was telling them she had was not good. Especially since she was telling the assembled group that the doctor had advised that there was no surgical solution. That spoke volumes, right there.

Cas was distressed. So THAT was what he had seen! A malignant brain tumor! He had no idea what to say. What to do. He could do nothing for Jody. Nor could Bobby. Nor could anyone. They'd had this conversation before, when Jody had been in the hospital for her mastectomy.

"No," Dean said suddenly. He held up his hand. "No. This is bull. We're gonna get you a second opinion. We're gonna - "

"We already got a second opinion," Jody said calmly. "And a third."

Eric looked at his Uncle Dean. He had bonded with both Winchesters on his and Rob's recent tour with the brothers, and Eric had taken to calling them his uncles, like Rob did. They didn't seem to have any objections. Eric respected Dean all the more for feeling angry, because that was Eric's predominant emotion about this whole thing. It was the same with Eric's dad. One minute, Eric's adoptive father was fine, and the next, he was dead. Eric's adoptive mother Alice had changed after that, shutting down, and shutting him out. And all the Bible-thumpers in his mom and dad's family said it was "God's Will", and "thank God he wasn't suffering any more". Well, he hadn't been suffering in the first place! Roger had been just fine, and then suddenly, he had dropped dead.

Eric was trying not to hold it against the new God, or Cas, or the Angels, but it was hard. Old perceptions were difficult to overcome. Eric had been brought up to believe in the power of prayer, and if you led your life a certain way, your reward would come in Heaven. But he was sure finding out the truth now, wasn't he? Yeah, there were good people in this extended family of his, and some of them were Angels. But, bad things happened to them all the time. There was death and there was suffering, and God was sitting right there beside Rob, just frowning, and doing absolutely nothing. That had been Cas's job when Eric had first gotten here, fresh from washing off the blood and guts of his and Rob's and Gail's brothers and sisters. Eric might as well have been praying to a lamp.

Frank was looking at Eric out of the corner of his eye. He recognized an Angry Young Man when he saw one. Hell, he had BEEN one. But Eric was gonna have to cool it. He was glaring at Cas and Bobby as if he was expecting one of them to pull a magic wand out of his pants and wave that tumor right out of Jody's head. There was nothing wrong with hope and optimism, but they weren't living in Fantasyland, here.

But the person Frank mainly had his eye on now was his sister. Gail's eyes were growing wide, and she had that tell-tale look now. They were going to have to put all the dog owners on their street on high alert.

Sure enough, a moment later, Gail wailed, "No! It's not fair! We have to do something!" She looked at Cas and Bobby. "Maybe we can talk to Death. Or, we'll take Jody back in time. Or..." She was thinking furiously. "Come on, guys, let's think. There's got to be something we can do!"

Jody was shaking her head. "No, Gina. Frank and I have already made the decision. Once I deteriorate to that extent, you're all going to promise to let me go."

"But, we - " Gail started to say, and then her mouth closed with a snap. Had Jody just called her "Gina"?

Jody sighed. "Look, we know how hard it is to accept what we're telling you. But it's my life, and my choice. I'm not going to live that way. I'm not going to become some stupid-ass vegetable, who can't even remember the names of her loved ones. Gail! Your name is Gail!" Jody burst out suddenly, pounding her fist on her knee.

Everyone was silent as the truth of the situation set in. Jody was on the verge of tears now, and Gail's heart was breaking for her. She got up out of her seat next to Cas and walked over to the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of Jody and taking her hand. "It's OK, Jody. You can call me anything you want. As long as you don't take suggestions from my brother. Or Dean," she quipped lightly, and Frank looked gratefully at his sister as the women smiled at each other.

"And now that we've completely ruined your days, I'm going to go spend some time with my daughter," Jody announced. "Thanks for caring, you guys. I'll talk to all of you soon. If I can remember who you are," she added wryly.

"Hold up, Jodes," Sam said as Jody rose from the couch. "Can I come with, for a minute?"

She looked at him. Out of all of them, Jody had always felt closest to Sam. This must be killing him. It was certainly killing HER, she thought with bitter humour.

"Sure. Come on, Sam. You and me and Angela can watch cartoons for a while," Jody said, waving him over to where she was standing. Then she looked at the others. "Maybe, if you guys aren't doing anything, you could have a drink or three with my husband. I'm sure he could use the company." She kissed Frank on the cheek, then left the room with Sam.

Gail burst into tears as soon as Jody was out of earshot. Frank was closest to her, so he grabbed her and hugged her to him. Predictably, Cas rushed over to where they were standing. Frank wasn't really sure which of them Cas was coming for, but he wasn't in the mood. So when Cas arrived, Frank passed his sister off to her husband and grabbed Dean by the arm. "Let's go have a drink," he said to his friend, pulling him away from the Angels. Rob and Eric trailed after them.

"I'll be right there," Bobby called after the men. He looked at Cas and Gail. "Look, I hate to bug you at a time like this, but I have something to tell you."

As Gail sniffled, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, Bobby told them what Kevin had said about the stone with the Pyramid Texts, and the red file with the list of the original Seven Wonders, and their corresponding Las Vegas locations.

"The Seven Utterances," Cas said, dazed, as if he should have known the answer all along. "We will have to talk to Kevin right away, and then have a look at that file."

"I thought you might say that," Bobby said, nodding. "I left the red file with Laurel. I'm gonna stay here and talk to Frank, for a bit. Maybe Jody, too, if she's feeling up to it. Go ahead and do your thing, Cas. You don't need my permission."

Cas looked at Bobby coolly. He hadn't been asking for it. But he was certainly not going to say so out loud, not right now. They were all upset about Jody at the moment. But, he had a duty to perform. If he could get the Coffin Texts, they would have the Book of the Dead, and Vincent and Raguel would be out of luck. Then they could concentrate on finding the Book of Life, and finding another way to eliminate Raguel. Vincent, too. For the first time in a long time, Cas felt that they were making some very real progress. But his heart was still heavy with the news about Jody. It was going to be so hard for them all to let her go. They would all have to make sure to rally around her family, and help them out any way they could.

"Are you finished your conversation, Gramps?" Rob said, walking into the room with a bottle of beer in his hand. "I've gotta talk to these guys for a minute."

Bobby left the room, and Gail put her hand on Rob's arm. "How are YOU doing?" she asked him.

"Not good," the young man answered honestly, frowning. "But I needed to tell you and Cas about a vision I had, before I forget. It could be important."

So he told them about the blade he'd seen, and where he and the guys had been at the time. A blade with intricate markings, blood, the Mississippi River...and a paddlewheel boat.

"That's got to be Gabriel's blade," Cas remarked, his mind working furiously now. Suddenly, the missions were just pouring in. Maybe that was a blessing, though. With the devastating news they had just received, perhaps it was best to keep as busy as they could.

Frank came into the room, holding a tumbler of whiskey. "Go into the kitchen, Rob," he said to his son. "I need to talk to these two alone, for a minute."

Rob left without another word, and Frank looked down at Gail. "Don't give me the doe eyes," he said to his sister. "I can't handle that right now."

"I don't know what to say, Frank," Cas said soberly. "You know that if there was anything we could do..."

"I know, I know," Frank said irritably, "but with respect, I don't want to hear a bunch of cliches, right now. I just wanted to ask you guys for a favour."

"Name it," Cas said immediately.

"I know you guys have these missions and things, and I know how important they are," Frank said. "But I want to know if we can do Christmas up really big this year. I'd like to have it at your house, and I want to do that snowman thing again this year. Angela would love that. Jody and I were talking about it, when I reminded her about it, and we both agreed that it was the best Christmas we ever had. We'll invite everybody, and go nuts with the presents, and the food, and..." His voice broke. Then he cleared his throat and continued, "...we'll take lots and lots of pictures. Would you do that for me, please?"

"Of course we will," Gail told him. "We'll have a Christmas that's so big and so much fun that Santa Claus will be coming to us for lessons on how it's done."

"And, no crying," Frank told them. "No crying. Only laughter, and good times."

"We promise," Cas said, but he was being a hypocrite, because all three of them were crying right now.

Frank pulled them both to him for a hug, spilling his drink. Who cared? He could always buy more booze. They all wept together for a minute, and then Frank released them. "OK, now, get lost," he said, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Bobby says you've got some important stuff to do in Heaven. And yes, I'll call you if we need anything."

He turned abruptly and left the room. Cas and Gail looked at each other sadly, and then they joined hands and vanished.

Casey was helping Greg pack for college, and the brothers were reminiscing about the celebration they'd had when Necromancer had deposited the money in Casey's PayMate account.

"I hope he's not gonna be pissed off that we drank from the thing," Greg said to his older brother.

"I guarantee you, he's not gonna have any idea," Casey responded. "I washed it twice, and then I sprayed some of that room stuff that Mom uses into it, just to be on the safe side." Then he grinned. "And even if he does get a whiff of rum, so what? That's what pirates used to drink, right? That'll just make it smell more authentic."

Greg nodded. He supposed that was true. He quit packing for a minute, sitting down next to his brother on the bed. "So...what did you see?"

"See?" Casey echoed evasively. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," Greg said insistently. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

Casey sighed. "OK. But you're gonna think I'm crazy."

"No, I'm not," Greg said, shaking his head. "What did you see?"

Casey was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Remember those Damien, The Omen movies we used to watch when we were kids? It was sort of like that. Some evil kid. Pretty, young mom. Some really tall guy, and another guy, with a black mark on his face. But, it wasn't his real face. You could see something just underneath it, like some kind of creepy...I don't know, Greg. To tell you the truth, I really didn't want to look."

The two of them sat there for a minute, and then Casey said, "What did YOU see?"

Greg frowned. "The end. The end of everything."

When Vincent got back to Becky's place with nothing but a few cell phone pictures and a nonsensical riddle bouncing around in his head, he was spitting mad, vowing vengeance on everyone and everything. He picked up the skull and hurled it at the wall, smashing it into tiny pieces.

What he had no way of knowing, of course, was that because both of the young brothers had drunk out of the skull prior to Vincent, its power had been greatly diluted by the time he had received it. The young men had received the true visions, while Vincent had received a vision which, although genuine, had misled him.

As the expression went, Vincent was barking up the wrong tree. He'd received the correct information from the Chase vault, but without the red file that Laurel was at that moment handing to Cas, he had no idea what the hell the riddle was referring to.

And contrary to the other expression, in this instance, Vincent was looking for horses when he should have been looking for zebras. He had keyed in on the Chase vault because it was in his back yard, so to speak, in Barbados. And indeed, he had gotten information there about the Book of the Dead. But, he should really have focused on the vault he had seen in his vision, in the first place: the Buxhoewden vault. The spelling of the family name had become garbled in its retelling, but that was the key to it all, right there.

Vincent took a deep breath, and then another. Becky wasn't home at the moment, which was just as well. Not that he gave a damn what she thought, but his little show of temper might have put a bit of a damper on the romance of the occasion. Because tonight, Becky was getting laid, and tomorrow morning would be the beginning of the end.

\- END OF BOOK 37. -


End file.
